the primate model
NO, YOU SHUT UP
I think I need to quit Facebook because it annoys me on perhaps a weekly basis. I keep having to hide people because of BULLSHIT, like posting disgusting play-by-play descriptions of their dog’s diarrhea or gushing smugly about how pleased they are to be home with their happy sparkly spawn, and—this is a direct quotation, by the way—how great it is to “be raising [my] own kids instead of letting daycare or school do the job!” I practically chewed off my own typing fingers in an effort to NOT respond, because there are only two ways to do so. You can politely and firmly point out that working parents raise their kids too, which helps combat ignorance and spreads diverse perspectives and is probably the grown-up thing to do, although sometimes I seriously just do not have the energy. Or you can go all righteous and hulksmash, but that will probably just lead the dumbfuck to put you in her mental category of “Stressed-Out, Defensive, Bitter, Jealous, Money-Hungry Career Bitch.”
Or you make liberal use of the “hide” button and subtract that dumbfuck from your list of people who make sense when they speak.
However, I cannot hide my little neighborhood Facebook group because it often transmits useful information about recycling and block parties and such. Just the other day someone on there was endorsing a new sandwich shop. Among the shop’s many virtues she listed that it is “faith-based.” Really? Faith-based sandwiches? Sigh. Once again, so tempted to ask “Whose faith?” or say that being “faith-based” is not actually a plus in many people’s books, and really should be quite low on the list of anyone’s “good restaurant” criteria, unless you are a Jain, or keep kosher, or something like that. But doing that would be a dick move, I guess, so: restraint. What a double-bind old age is. I am simultaneously more cranky and more reasonable about expressing it in public. (Except here, where you and I have an agreement of sorts.)
SOME THINGS
1. Went to Ladyfest, because RIOT GRRRL IS NOT DEAD DAMMIT okay yes it is. It was fun, though. I had Schlitz in a can and danced around and met many nice people. You should go see this band if you get a chance (and look at all the upcoming Chicago chances!)
2. Thought I saw a dead rat in our alley, but it was just a bunch of dryer lint and a rubber band.
3. Had a sexy dream about playing Connect 4.
4. Discovered that all I ever want to eat for an office lunch is hummus and crackers. It has been like 10 straight workdays now.
5. Took Nora to a bowling birthday party. Nora was pretty damn serious about bowling. Because it was a party, people were sometimes chatting, snacking, or otherwise not promptly taking their turn at the pins, and Nora would pick up their ball and go deliver it to the person, to help them remember to GET BOWLING ALREADY. Full service, man. A bowling valet. I like bowling, but I liked watching her fist-pumps and victorious expressions even more. She has a face made for sports highlight reels.
WINGS IN THE AIR Y’ALL
I can’t stop thinking about this article, about how birdsong is akin to rap battling.
All you other sparrows can’t touch my flow
I’ll eat all your seed and then I’ll go
So many fresh rhymes drippin’ from my beak
Your “tweet tweet tweet” be shit-ass week
Got a band on yo’ leg, science gave you a tag
Well I ain’t surprised because you a straight-up fag
When spring come around and I get to fertilizin’
All my bitches’ eggs got little babies inside them
Got a fly house it’s made of wood
Dopest crib in the whole damn ‘hood
It’s the one over there with the little round hole
While you park your ass on an old light pole
Every time I take a shower I improvise about ten more lyrics. I never remember to write them down, but I feel ready for the next bird-related spontaneous freestyle. And sorry about that middle bit, but it wouldn’t really be a gangster rap battle without some random homophobia.
—mimi smartypants thinks it’s sad but true.