Tag Archives: gender

Things That (Used to?) Baffle Me

Why Cheerios never float alone–they always find each other in the bowl, even when you only have 3 left.

Why people who fly the blimp don’t come out talking like Alvin the Chipmunk.

Why trees limbs can grow around the chain that used to hold my tire swing.

Why belly buttons, like most scars, don’t disappear.

Why bananas are kinda shiny (they are-I swear it).

Why it’s okay to eat a runny egg, but not a raw one.

Why Rocky can eat raw eggs and nothing bad happens.

Why as soon as you talk about someone, they walk around the corner.

Why I can never remember if I locked my door, even though there has never been a time that I haven’t.

Why we like the underdog.

Why gender roles are disappearing.

Why we have to get old.

Why roosters and turkeys have that gobbler thingy.

Why it’s so hard for people to be monogamous.

Why we have to lose the wonder we have as children.

Why the corn sticks together when you cut it off the cob.

Why loud snorers don’t wake themselves up.

Why it’s called football, even though the ball is in the hands most of the time.

Why I always run out of conditioner before I run out of shampoo.

Why it’s called the World Series if it’s only in the USA.

Why we had to take Pluto’s planet status away.

Why people go to Mexico.

Why traffic is always worse when you’re in a hurry.


Happy Friday!


Posted by on August 5, 2011 in Daily Happenings


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The Menaissance? HELL YES.

Okay, before I get to my excitement about the Menaissance, just a few things.

It’s 81 degrees outside, and I just went for an hour long run.  As I bent down to tie my shoe, I found myself staring face to face with a four-leaf clover.  Now, I’m not really superstitious, but by golly, running along the Allegheny River and smelling the purple wildflowers and watching the heat come off the water…  I had a good feeling.  Yesterday, I got a free belly button ring (score) and then Mike and I went to the Grove City outlets because my running shoes were falling apart.  The outlets are nestled among a bunch of farms.  Quite literally, there is a big red barn and a combine across the main highway.  It smells of cow manure and air conditioning, English food from the Elephant & Castle, and new shoes.

To make a long story short, I lucked out and got $110.o0 shoes for $52.40.  And these are the amazing shoes I was tying on the trail when I found the clover.  I’ve been feeling pretty lucky.  I’m getting the housework done daily, and getting Mike’s lunch around before he gets home.  I’ve been vacuuming with a glass of water trying to see if I should risk the carpet to red wine or a margarita.  It’s not that hard.  Maybe I need the added elements of heals and a petticoat.  I’m so not opposed to this.

Today, I get to sew a button onto Mike’s shorts that fell off.  Life as a housegirlfriend is good.

And because of the little clover, which is now stuck between a piece of glass and a picture of a friend from home in a frame, I felt that maybe I ought to apply to some jobs today.  Maybe today’s the day when someone will call back.

To be honest, I get a little bored here during the day.  I could get a puppy, but I think getting a job is probably better, seeing as the loans I used for grad school are no longer providing a six-month grace period and I’ve got to pay.  Now.

And now… The Menaissance

^I figured out the link thing.

So this is a good way for me to talk about gender stereotypes, but also about the Menaissance.

Click the link and read it first.  This is important.

Men are becoming manly men again.  And this is a good thing.  A very good thing.  It was getting to a point out there where I could see the genders seriously becoming the same thing.  I’m not saying a man can’t get a pedicure or a facial, or that he can’t be stylin’.  I’m just saying MY men can’t do that.  😉 

But really, there has been immense pressure on people to look a certain way.  It’s not fair that it happens to women, but for men to feel this?  When did men become so farking sensitive?  So I think it’s important that the Menaissance is rising again. 

Let me tell you where I’m coming from.  I do think there are certain things men and women should do.  Women should cook, but I’ll tell you that I’m a horrible cook, and most of the time, Mike hands me a spoon and lets me stir the boiling noodles while he makes an amazing shrimp pasta sauce.  I’m content living out of the microwave.  I cannot make a pot roast, and I am slowly trying to get over my fear of touching raw chicken.  The yellow globules of fat just make my stomach turn.

But I’m good at breakfast.  And damn good at vegetables.  It’s evident, though.  Mike’s the cook in this pseudo-family.

And while Mike is the spackler and actually knows what he’s doing, he has no problem leaving me a sanding pad and telling me to do it while he’s at work.  He told me that the floors could be vacuumed last night…and that I could scrub down the walls…and sweep the front steps…and so on.  He has faith that I can do it all, so I have no problem telling him to make me shrimp pasta then fix the TV in the front room.

So I guess what I’m saying is that household duties (both domestic and mechanical) can fall to either person.  I truly don’t care who does what, but I think each party should be ABLE to do things.

But here’s the thing.  Men care what they do…when they do it…how they do it.  I don’t.  I’m not going to change my own oil, even though I’m interested to know how it works.  I get it.  Drain it into a pan, change the filter, plug it back up, fill it up with new oil.  Seems simple enough, but I’m going to let someone who knows HIS way around a car do it for me.  Not to say that I wouldn’t let a woman mechanic do it.  I just don’t want to do it myself.

Mike, on the other hand, cares like hell if it isn’t done right.  Same with my daddy.  Same with most of the other men I’ve dated.  They want to know it’s done correctly.  And while Mike and I were driving to his parents’ house the other day, he said this, “There’s something about knowing that you can do something.  You don’t have to, but knowing that you could if you ever needed to is important.  And you tend to trust your own work more than you trust anyone else’s.  That way you can’t lay blame because it’s your fault.”  I like it.  A lot. 

So maybe it’s about responsibility.  I’d never let anyone else sew my quilt unless they were a professional.  I’m not going to let anyone else write my words.  I make my salad a certain way; so I tend not to trust others to do it for me.  Hell, I don’t even like eating out most of the time because I like to be there to watch what’s being put into my food.  Mike will tell you.  I am constantly over his shoulder.  But I don’t think this is a problem.  At all. 

Maybe it’s about what each individual is attracted to, expectations from their partner.  I can’t date a guy that can’t fix stuff, but I can certainly hang out with them, swill a few beers, play some boardgames, and so forth.  My hormones just don’t roll for these people.

But other women swoon at Ryan Seacrest…or Edward Cullen.  Just sayin’.  😉

So if you’re up to joining the Menaissance, men, here’s a guide to manliness.  Compliments of Corey, a former student. 

The Art of Manliness

So there you have it.  Back to vacuuming, and scrubbing.  Sorry for the delay on this one.


Posted by on June 2, 2010 in Domesticity


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Spackle Queen

It’s cloudy, I had a pot of coffee, and I still just want to fall asleep.  I hate weather like this.  I just can’t make myself do much.

On a happy note, I finally got my birthday present:  acrylic nails!  I’ve been dying for them, but it didn’t make sense to get them before the move and before everything was unpacked.  So now I type with gorgeous French manicured nails, and when I click them on the counter, it makes me feel a little more like an adult.

Mike and I have made major headway on getting the house situated.  Everything extra is in a closet.  The furniture is close to getting arranged, and we may have some new appliances coming.  Yay no more laundromat! 

But a funny story:  I was sitting on the bed watching television the other night and Mike was trying to get my attention.  I must not have been responding in the way he wanted, because next thing I knew, he was jumping on me and tickling me until I couldn’t breathe.  As he rolled off of me, having had my undivided attention, he rolled into the wall and knocked out a square foot of drywall that the previous owner had patched.  There was no cussing.  A lot of laughing.  And then the hole was there for a few days.

But two days ago, we wandered around the Home Depot picking up spackle and paint and so on.  Man’s work!  And when we got home, Mike reattached the drywall square, secured it in place (I missed this part, as the Cleveland Cavaliers were embarrassing themselves on television and LOST was on), and then let it dry.  Last night, Mike mixed the spackle, which I think is one of the best words ever, and he let me try it.  So as he gooped it on, I failed in my gender role and began spackling like a pro.  Well, that’s what he said, but I feel like he was probably laughing at me when I was turned around.  And now the wall is spackled.

But today led me to want to keep going on it.  I think I found it cathartic.  But today, I think I upheld my most housewifey day yet.  I woke up and took Mike’s car to the shop for his inspection, then picked it up when it was finished.  After that I did the dishes, picked up the house, and made Mike lunch before he got home for his break.  Then, I loaded all the cardboard boxes into his car so we could take them to recycle later on, all the while revisiting the drywall square to sand down the excess spackle.  Spackle spackle spackle.  And because Mike’s 25th birthday is tomorrow, I ran to the store, got everything I need to make him cupcakes to take into work, and a bottle of champagne for tomorrow night.

And still, I sand down spackle.

I’m figuring out that being a housewife is kind of exciting.  When Mike got home for lunch and had a steaming plate of pasta, his car taken care of in the back lot, the excess cardboard loaded up and the house clean and spot on the wall sanded, he said, “Wow, you’re really holding down the fort today.”  Then he picked up his guitar and sang me an impromptu song about how a little blonde girl was cleaning up the apartment.  He’s a wonderful man.

But as much as I enjoyed holding down the fort, I still really enjoyed spackling and sanding.  And watching the Cavs and Penguins (both of whom were eating it up).  Gender roles?  Meh.  I struggle with this because I do believe in them. 

So to comment on this link ( ), I’m choosing a few, but addressing all.

1)  Women can’t drive?  I feel like I can…but I also find myself yelling at women on the highway. And when someone cuts me off, I often say, “Figures.  It’s a chick.”  I’m such a sexist pig.

2)  Men are freaking slobs.  Hm.  Some more than others.  But I know I’m much more neat than  Mike.  I think it comes down to the fact that men rationalize things like, “Why pick up that pair of shorts when I’m just going to put them on again later tonight?” and “What’s it matter if all the dishes are dirty?  I’ll wash what I need when I need it.”  I’d rather have everything ready at my disposal, which explains why I get to do a good two hours of housework a day.  And LOVE IT.

3)  Women are wimps.  Um.  A little.  But it’s all on a spectrum.  I’d rather have surgery than be pinched.  I can’t stand minor pain.  And I feel like major pain often results in something good.  I’m willing to suffer for a purpose, i.e. childbirth, breast implants (which I do not have), lifting a car off of my child.  All things that I’m willing to suffer for.  Just don’t freaking pinch me.

4)  Women love to talk.  Yes we do.  And if men talked more, we wouldn’t talk so much.  🙂

5)  Women see mauve, men see purple.  TRUE.  Until you take a man into a hardware/paint store.  My God.  My experience from Home Depot the other night just proves this to be true.  I didn’t know there was a flat paint, a base paint, an eggshell, and a satin paint.  And when I look at that paint wall with all the little pieces of paper with all the colors on them, I get super excited.  Mike used to mix paint at Home Depot, so he’s well aware of the differences in color.  I just don’t think most men care until it’s something they’re working with.  I mean, if they’re wearing khaki shorts, they’re wearing khaki shorts.  If they’re painting a wall or laying carpet, though, they want to know the exact specifications.  Trust me.

6)  Women are lightweights.  Sometimes, yeah.  Because if we drank as much as men do, our bar tabs would be OUTSTANDING.  We make for cheaper dates. 

Now, off to chill my champagne.  I will vacuum with an alcoholic beverage soon.  I will.



Posted by on May 13, 2010 in Daily Happenings, Domesticity


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Gender Stereotypes

Hello from Ohio.  I just went for a fantastic run in this low altitude farmland, and feel like a million bucks.  It’s hard to breathe in the mountains!

But I ate good food, saw some good friends, and visited my old bar, The Depot.

I’m trying to get stuff around and get back to Pennsylvania, but for now, here’s something to think about:

Check out this article.

Tomorrow, I think I will try to vacuum in a dress, with an apron and high heels, and a martini.


1 Comment

Posted by on May 10, 2010 in Domesticity


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