Another (not so) Sexy Scooter Kitten Rant

Apologies, I am much less angry as I write this since I've had a big hug from my husband and spoken to my adorable in-laws who were concerned that the wildfires in Northern California might be threatening my parents.

Dare I say this...riding my scooter isn't as fun anymore. Not because I am sick of doing my helmet hair in the dirty side view mirror in the parking garage every morning before work. Not because even on a scoot, 90 degree heat is freaking stifling. And not because with my swimmer's neck putting a helmet on really, really hurts.

No. I am having less fun because there are so many stupid perverts it is ridiculous. I am NO Kim Kardashian and, in my opinion, do not display some sex on wheels image as I ride my scoot (in my lady bug helmet for crying out loud). But I do, as it is summer time, wear a skirt on my scoot. It is always long enough so that when I put my foot down you cannot see anything. I always tuck it so it will not fly up as I ride. I've done my duty to remain "modest". But if I had a dollar for every gross male who makes an obvious attempt to see if they can "see" anything I wouldn't need a scoot. I'd have a chauffeur.

Here are three incidents that have happened since last Wednesday:

1. I am on my way to a meeting at school and stopped at a light. The rear window of the fancy SUV in front of me (and one lane to the right) roles down. I expect to see a kid or dog peek out. No. I see an older gentleman, in a tie, turn all the way around from the driver seat, remove his sun glasses, look me  up and down (and at my crotch) then shake his head. In disgust? In disappointment? Who knows, but I was hoping with all my might he was headed toward the U where I could ask him what the hell he was looking at.

2. I am at a stoplight (just now on my way home from work) and the cross foot traffic is heavy. A man on his bike, stops. Right in front of me and tries to see if he can see up my skirt (which is definitely long enough to conceal everything). When I finally see what he is doing he speeds off on his bike. I was so dumbfounded I didn't even think of anything to say to his back as he rides off.

3. I was riding home from Steph's house last week at about 9 PM.  I am at a stop light, in a dress, next to a beat up Oldsmobile bumping rap music with four white men in their twenties totally rocking out. They were singing along to some pop-y song and changed the lyrics to yell at me, "I'd tap that moped ass!" Yuck. The light turns green and I head toward my street where I take a left. At seeing this, the car then turns right, flips a u-turn and is attempting to come after me! Thank goodness they have cross traffic and no light because I drive down my quiet street at 50 miles an hour, make it to my driveway, pull the gate closed and hide, still in my helmet, behind my scoot as they roll by like they're gonna shoot me up.

You know, dudes look hot on bikes too. You could be into the hipster on the scoot, the thug on the Ducati, or the badass on the Harley. They look sexy. I have perhaps never seen a girl cat call a guy on his motor bike of choice. I have never seen a grown woman pull up next to a grown man on a bike, roll down their window and blatantly look them up and down. Why do so many men think this is OK?

Sure, I could wear only pants on my scoot. But it shouldn't be up to me to keep nasty men in check.

GRRRRR.

G*ddamnit, Utah!

So, this happened yesterday morning:

I have a few thoughts on this, some relate to the message in general, others relate to the message coming from Utah.

Thought 1: Does God (whose existence in my opinion is entirely questionable), really hate anyone? I mean, he (or she) is supposed to be this merciful, powerful, forgiving bad-ass, right? I don’t even think God hates the Devil himself (or herself).

Thought 2: GODDAMNIT, UTAH! I really love living here, and my friends and family were beginning to see why. And then some j-off pulls this shit. I just found “Mormons for Equality” on Facebook for goodness sake.

Thought 3: It’s things like this, like the LDS Church’s contribution to Prop 8, that give Utah a bad name. And judging by the comments on the Huff Post, it sounds like these things are really doing their job.

Yes, Utah is conservative, yes we are largely governed by the church. But did you know Salt Lake City has the only openly atheist mayor? Did you know that I just passed by more same sex couples than I could count on my lunch break walk through downtown and Temple Square? Did you know we have a freaking TOURBUS that does “hop on, hop off” pub crawls on the regular?

Final Thought: I just can’t believe we’re seeing this shit. In Utah. Anywhere. Same thing with racism. WTF? I hope that “shaundominic” is right and that a lot of people are flipping their shit because gay marriage is thisclose to becoming legal in much of the country.

(Fallen) Idols

When I was about 9 years old I was selling girl scout cookies outside Petrini's in Foster City when the muther effing Hulk walked out of the Gold's Gym next store.  I wasn't a real big wrestling fan in my girl scout heyday but you KNOW who the Hulk is.

I remember my dad was there and he was kinda geeked out about it. So was this little boy, maybe about 9 also.

The Hulk screamed at the kid to leave him alone.

We were shocked. How could a man made up of choreographed "wrestling" moves, roids, and fancy spandex yell at a boy who clearly sees him as his hero?

Has this ever happened to you? It's happened to me two more times that I can remember.

Last summer I went to see Trombone Shorty at Red Butte Gardens.

Being a diehard NOLA fan, this was ah-mazing. After a completely kick ass show, the Shorty and his band, Orleans Avenue were SIGNING CDS! My friend Stacey and I rushed over to meet the guys and purchase their disc. Sidenote: do you know how gorgeous Trombone Shorty is in person? Swoon.

It stops there.

The guys of Orleans Avenue were very nice; thanking us for being there, joking about where they can get a beer in this town. But not Shorty. No. He didn't even make eye contact. He signed my CD and brushed it to his right for the next person to sign. Before I could get more than, "fantastic show!" out of my mouth, he'd reached for the next person's disc. I was crushed.

So a few weeks ago, Josh and I went to see The B Side Players.  Now, take how much I love NOLA and times that by 100 and you'll see how much I love San Diego.  During my nearly 9 years there, I became a very big fan of much of the local music.  B Side is a Latin salsa/funk/reggae multi-piece band that will rock your sox off.

Per usual, I went to see these guys thinking it would be as slammed and sold out as when I saw them in their hometown.  There were maybe 40 folks there. I got a great seat! Front row.

The lead singer was gracious and interacted with the crowd.  He thanked us for being there, rocked out and the whole band played a really solid show.

As we were leaving the venue, I spot the lead singer at the swag table! I was star-shocked for sure. I told him how wonderful they were and that I couldn't believe it wasn't sold out and that I'd seen them at least once a year each year I was in SD. The other guy sitting there engaged me. "Right on!", "Thanks for coming out!". But not the main man of the band. He barely looked at me and gave me a very sad, "cool" in response to everything I said.  I was so crushed. When I came home, Jim asked how the show was and I couldn't even muster back up the high I felt as I was leaving my seat, it was gone now.

Given this track record, I expected little when I went to see Dear Sugar (aka Cheryl Strayed) at her book signing last night.

As she walked through the (very crowded) room, I had to fight back tears just aching to gush out. This woman’s advice column (and books: Torch and Wild) have literally changed my outlook on life. I even had to ditch the Q I had for the Q&A session because I just knew I wouldn’t be able to keep it together.

Her reading was great, the woman is hilarious. My favorite part was when someone asked what she “learned” during the tragic loss of her mother and the following three months of solidarity along the Pacific Crest Trail (as documented in Wild), she replied that she is still learning from these experiences, nearly 20 years later.  That, in the moment of life’s great losses, tragedies, or other stressful events, you don’t necessarily learn anything. It’s really in the reflection. Preach. On. Sista.

Anyway, after I waited in the very long line to get her to sign my book, she was incredibly gracious. She wrote me a little gem, “Always take the balloon” and posed for a photo. I held in my tears as my faith in meeting idols of mine was restored.

PS:

You know who is a GREAT band to their fans? California Guitar Trio. Not only do they sign CDs after the show, they stick around as long as they need to in order to engage nearly every fan.

Things I’m into right now:

1. One Direction’s “That’s What Makes You Beautiful”. The “Summer Loving” beat and cheesy ass lyrics got a girl going wild. On my looooong drive home from California yesterday, I played that shit on repeat.

UPDATE: just watched the video…tweens dancing in the ocean almost takes the wind out of my sails.

2. Girlfriends. After spending a week with my girls I’ve known and loved since kindergarten, and reflecting on the fact that I have a group of girls here in SLC that I feel like I’ve known since kindergarten, I’m pretty sure I’m the luckiest girl in the world. Like Megan and I discussed as we strolled her adorable baby to Starbucks like real stay-at-home moms: husbands are a brand of best friend; they are our partners. But girlfriends? They are our shoulders, our strength, and our source of never-ending laughter.

3. NAS. Just downloaded his newest album on which he opens up about fatherhood and his failed marriage.  I heard him on NPR yesterday and when asked: why talk about your personal life now? He replied: I’ve made ten albums. I’m done talking about how rough it was for me to get to where I am. Life can still be rough, even as a millionaire.

4. My husband. No, I am not always into my husband. Neither are you so stop judging.  Jim has been exceptional lately (see number 3 on the list of things I am NOT into). Between these crazy dogs, this crazy heat and the crazy dry/fire-y summer that is killer on my allergies, I am about to check myself into a psych ward. Jim, cool as a cucumber has been doing more than his fair share of housework, dog work, and taking-care-of-his-emotional-wreck-of-a-wife work.

Things I’m NOT into right now:

1. Bathrooms without hooks for your purse. Seriously? I’m not placing my vintage Louis Vuitton on the top of the TP dispenser, OK? And def not putting it on the sink covered in water.  I was just on a long road trip and so I was in a lot of gas station bathrooms. With my Louis. In my teeth. Gross.

2. Rihanna. Rihanna’s gyrating booty shorts and nasally voice are like nails on a chalkboard to me. She is on EVERY hip-hop station. I just don’t get it. But, don’t get me wrong; when I get to Vegas on Thursday and hear her in the club, I’m sure my body is gonna betray me and dance.

3. My dogs. As far as Lula is concerned, Sadie was the best thing that has happened to our household. As for me? I slipped her a Benadryl today. No seriously, I did. We adopted her and her kennel cough, which turned into pneumonia, which turned into an $1100 hospital stay, which turned into $500 of meds. THEN, she got a mysterious lump on her shoulder (not cancerous) that is full of nastiness and scar tissue. The girl is wearing a cone and a t-shirt that says, “I’m straight and I support equal rights” as she bangs her head all around the house, knocking shit over and undoubtedly giving herself even more brain damage. She thinks she can play rough with Lula (who is constantly assisting her in removing both her cone and nasty t-shirt) and I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. Oh, and Jim’s gone for a week. 

Don't let that face fool you. See her arm? It's comfortable resting in the crack of her cone!

Reason to Love SLC #4, 5, and 6

No, there aren't three reasons to love SLC in this post. This particular reason is so effing awesome, it deserves three reasons.

Red Butte Concert Series

Every summer, Red Butte Gardens has an unbelievable season line up in an unbelievable setting.  With the gorgeous Red Butte foothill and canyon to your left and a sweeping view of the valley to your right, this outdoor venue is likely the most beautiful I've seen.  Each time I've gone to a concert there, the artists have always commented on the amazing scenery. 

But a good line up and breathtaking views aren't shit when you can't have your favorite drink in hand, amirite? The best part about this venue is you can bring in your own food AND booze.

Every concert day, at about 2 PM folks start to line up outside the gate (and up the gorgeous canyon) so they can get the best spot on the open seating lawn. Unlike venues such as Shoreline Amphitheater in CA, this lawn section begins AT THE STAGE. The VIP preferred seating is actually behind the lawn. People set up shop in line. I'm talking tables with food, coolers with ice cold pinot grigio and great conversation. How cool is that?

The venue is small, holding only 2,800 people, so no seat is a bad seat.  People just put down their blankets, unfold their lawn chairs, unpack their fancy cheese and crackers and crack open their beer/wine/bloody mary/mojito.  Whenever I go to a show, I always feel like I am among family...it is a wonderful feeling.

This season I've seen The Shins and Wilco so far.

The Shins!

Wilco!

Me and birthday boy Josh at Wilco

Jimism: the yellow kind

The other day I am listening, intently to my math lecture online when I hear, "you know, she must have done that right underneath you". I look in the direction of Jim's voice. Sadie had peed, a lot, directly to the right of my chair. WTF?

Jim starts to laugh.

I say, "knock it off, I was listening to my math!"

Jim says, "see if you can calculate the circumference of that puddle" and walks away.

I’d be happier if you were going to build a house for the homeless.

My life, morals, values, and opinions do not align with those of the popular culture’s religion in my neck of the woods.

Duh.

But I feel like I’ve done a decent job of accepting that this is indeed the popular culture and I am to respect that in places like work, school and other public forums like the Wells Fargo I frequent.

This weekend for Pride I will be wearing my Rainbow Brite costume, each month I give money toward the Human Rights Campaign, and I love Barack Obama unconditionally.

Today, we had a “monthly mingle” at work. We are usually treated to cookies or some other small goodie and it is a generally nice 20 minutes of social time honoring those whose birthdays fall in each month.  

Today, those with May birthdays shared their monthly treat and social time with a senior partner who is leaving to serve an LDS mission in England for three years.

Exactly what budget did the 20-plus helium balloons, streamers, giant British flag table cloth, (catered) tea sandwiches, ice cream, chocolate covered biscotti, and scones come from?  Who was able to socialize while the music blared and he was wished a very public, “God speed”?

Back up for a second: I am fine with God being talked about here, with folks going on missions, with scones. I am not fine with blatant favoritism and the expectation that we should all be A-OK with the fact that this man and his wife are going to another country to spread what they think to be God’s words.

As a non practicing anything, I can’t say that I am personally, deeply offended. But what about those whose faith clashes with the Mormon faith? What about those who deeply feel the words of God are something else entirely? We are supposed to be happy and (this is a direct quote, here) consider this man and his wife “extremely deserving of this honor”. Honor?

So, if I went around, door to door in Italy, preaching that all  humans should be treated equally in the eyes of the law, or that “God” actually finds women to be the superior sex, will I get a freaking spaghetti cook off in my honor?

Am I overreacting?

Restaurant Workers in Latex Gloves. Discuss.

Does anyone else question the latex gloves (or sometimes the cheap, oversized sandwich baggy looking things) that the 15 year old making your Subway sandwich is wearing? Or, let’s not be restaurant chain-ist; the waitress I had today at a very nice Italian spot near my work.

Here’s my question: are you wearing those to protect me? Or just your hands?

She has them on, my six inch wheat in her hands, “what kind of cheese”? American, I answer.  “Hot or cold”? Hot, I say. She then takes those gloved hands and opens up the microwave, then puts  my six inch turkey on wheat in there.

“What do you ladies want to drink”? She says as she carries the water carafe in her plastic baggied hands. The same carafe the non-gloved barista just filled behind the counter.

I don’t get it. What is the point of putting the gloves on if you’re going to touch every stinking surface of the eatery AND my food?

Can someone shed some light? Please?

Colon Cleanse. Bear with me.

Again, MIA, I know. It’s been a rough several weeks with finals, our beloved dog passing, and the addition of our new pup, Sadie.  Molly deserves a post of her own (which I will likely get to sometime next fall) so I won’t go into the sad (yet heartwarming) details right now.

This post is about a colon cleanse! I’ve been reading The Bloggess’ new book: Let’s Pretend this Never Happened, and I just read a hilarious chapter about how she overdosed on laxatives. Seriously, people, go get that book! I started it three weeks ago and am purposely only reading a few chapters a week to savor every single word. She is a great writer, who is also plagued with anxiety disorders which  makes her as brave as she is hilarious.

Anyway, the chapter started with her wanting to try a colon cleanse since a friend of hers did one and lost a few pounds. Although she thinks that makes her sound crazy, I think it is a brilliant idea! I Googled the shit out of colon cleanses and which ones are the right ones and voila, I should expect my order for Colopril early next week.

Side note: The title of this post originally said, “Bare with me” and so I Googled that and found this hilarious gem:

“Bear with me,” the standard expression, is a request for forbearance or patience. “Bare with me” would be an invitation to undress.

So, this is awkward…

I know I’ve been MIA, and for the 2.5 of you that actually read my blog, I apologize.

There is SO much in my drafts file, and SO much I need to talk about! Like my AWE-mazing 30th birthday party that my AWE-mazing Emily put on for me, or the fact that my 15 year old friend Annie is studying the exact same algebra concepts in her high school math class as I am in my college math class, or about the j-off who nearly ran me over in the parking garage prompting me to chew out the valet desk manager at the Marriott.  I also went to Miami and came back with a more distorted body image than I arrived with.

Which brings me to the point of this, brief, post. Yesterday I went to my (fantastic) doctor because my allergies had me looking like a swollen mess.  She’s really great because even though I book an appointment with her to discuss one thing, she always wants to discuss my health and how I am feeling as a whole. So as we neared the conclusion of our visit, the following exchange occurred:

Dr. Bell: Ok, there’s one more issue, that I am sure your aware of.

Me: Uh huh (in my head I am thinking, I have no idea what she is talking about)

Dr. Bell: Your weight.

Me: (in my head, crap, I was aware of that)

Dr. Bell: Now, you’re not a fat girl, so 6 pounds gained in one year is not really ideal.

Me: Uh huh (in my head, JC, I KNOW! I just got married, my dog has cancer, work is crazy, I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THE GYM!)

Then I said, well Jim and I are getting really into biking so…

And that was that.

Jim made me feel better by pointing out that the last time I saw her I had literally just gotten married and was in the best shape of my life.  But we’d both like to know, if I were a “fat girl” would 6 pounds be fine? If so, I’d like to convert…