Your Baby is Not a Backpack. Or a Dog.

When I was a little girl, my mother held my hand and carried me in her arms. Apparently, this has gone out of fashion. What do we have instead? The baby leash and the turn-your-child-into-a-knapsack-sling-thing.

These contraptions are now around to keep your rugrats in tow. C’mon! Really? Have we really lost so much touch with our children in the name of convenience that it has become okay to wear them or treat them like domesticated animals? I don’t know where to begin. This kind of behavior makes people look like lazy, disengaged, preoccupied parents; granted, some of them are. Others are just following the trend. Either way, this is totally unacceptable. How can children interact with the world from a knapsack? And how can they learn to listen and obey the instructions of a parent when you let them run amuck on a leash like a poorly trained terrier?

It’s worth mentioning that the baby backpack above is pretty tame. Some are slightly more strange:

The contraptions that let your kids’ legs dangle around seem somewhat unsafe, and the hiking pack is, admittedly, just weird. And way too intense. But sometimes they also verge on cruel.

There is nothing okay about hanging your kid up like a coat!!!! NO.

The baby leash isn’t much better. There is no reason you should be using the same item to keep track of your kid that you do to keep track of your dog/cat/ferret.

This woman is literally sixteen inches from her child. HOLD HIS HAND, LADY. HE'S NOT A POMERANIAN OR A YORKSHIRE TERRIER. HE'S A FREAKIN' BABY!!!!

And if that’s bad, how about being so lazy that you don’t even want to hold onto a leash? Well, there’s a product for you, too. It’s like a double sided lazy person dog leash.

I thought we learned our lesson as Americans that front belly wear of any kind is a huge fashion faux pas (see the “fanny pack”). I guess when it’s a two way leash for you AND your baby, it suddenly becomes acceptable….

To sum up, remember that your baby is a baby. Not a pet. Not a pile of books to throw on your back. You have a living, breathing child that greatly benefits from interacting with you and with the world around them with your guidance. Stop depriving them of this chance by backpacking and leashing them!

Manly Men

Apparently, being a man is everything.  It is fricking everything.  BUT, being brave is not being a man; it’s just being brave.  Sure, I like to say, “Man up!” or “Grow a pair!” as much as the next person, but I think we need to consider the implications of these little phrases.  These phrases imply that to be brave, we must tap into our inner-dude.  They imply that only men are brave.  For me, this just isn’t going to work.  If it takes balls to have balls, then I must have balls… right?

The thing is, I don’t have or want actual balls, but I’ll be damned if someone gets something I don’t because they do.  I certainly have figurative balls, or cajones, or “a pair” (of balls).  I’m brave.  I’m assertive.  I’m sick of people marrying these traits to masculinity.  Whatever happened to the whole “I am woman, hear me roar!” thing?  Women can be assertive, aggressive, brave and ballsy without being mannish or unwomanly.  Being brave doesn’t make me a bitch; being a bitch makes me a bitch.  I am still feminine when I am assertive.  I am still a woman when I’m knocking a man down a few notches.  Also, just because I’m destroying some dude in a debate, argument, drinking contest, arm wrestling match, wood chopping contest, four wheeler race or whatever I’m doing that day, it doesn’t mean I’m emasculating him.  I’m just beating him.  I’m winning.  He’s losing.  He’s still a boy and I’m still a girl.

 

Being tough shouldn’t challenge my femininity or anyone else’s masculinity.  I get to be a tough womanly woman.

When people say, “Man up!” they are telling someone to do the right thing, to step up to a challenge, to face their fears.  I can do all those things without manning up, I just do them.  Am I womanning up?  Am I chicking up?  What’s happening then?

I can do what a man does.  I can fight a man if I need to, and I have.  My friends can vouch for that.  I use a lot of f-bombs and call people dude.  It’s part of how I fight.

Chicks rule.  We don’t need to be dudes.  Listen to Jessie J.

Or, for a lesson in true masculinity, look at Neville.

This Elevator Goes…. Nowhere?

I’ve been in plenty of buildings with stupid architecture–doors that lead nowhere (or even off into space), staircases that suddenly end, buildings in which the ground floor is called “2,” etc.

Today I encountered quite possibly the dumbest feature of a building: an elevator that only goes down, and only goes down one floor, right at the entrance to a building. What?! There’s a giant staircase right next to this thing, and it didn’t occur to anyone to make the elevator go up as well as down to the creepy basement?
I got in with a group of people, paused, and just stared at the buttons when I was inside. My brain kept wanting to punch a button but I thought I was crazy: the only options were doors open, doors close, B, and 1*. What kind of stupid elevator is this?! It’s like the kind you see in a crappy horror movie or something, not a university building! Give me a break. Also, why at universities of all places do you find the weirdest, most cock-eyed architectural designs? Aren’t we supposed to be employing the best and brightest and teaching them, too? Food for thought, architectural students. Food for thought.

Sneezing is NOT a choice.

I’m very tired of people being offended by my sickness.  It’s allergy season and I need to sneeze sometimes.  People need to get over it.  I am not choosing to sneeze.  In fact, lately I’ve sneezed so much I have a back ache.  It is quite unpleasant.  People who see me sneeze on the street, in the office, in the library are startled, alarmed and offended by my sneezes.  I’ve gotten weird looks and faces of disgust.  It is only a sneeze.  When I sneeze, I am polite about it.  I cover my mouth.  I excuse myself.  I step away from other people.  I’m not going to sneeze on anyone, I just need to sneeze.  I’m sorry, but I’m not choosing to sneeze.  I’m just sneezing.  I think it’s a little rude to act as if I am targeting them by sneezing.  If you are sneezed on, then please be offended.  If someone does that, they are gross, or maybe a baby.  I’m just saying that I understand that people don’t want to get sick, or get boogers on them, but sneezes are not aggressive forms of communication.  Sneezes just happen.  Cool it.

At least we can agree on how amazing this sneeze is –

There Can Be Only One

I was super stoked when Mad Men, the acclaimed AMC television series, hit Netflix streaming. As such, I’ve had my nose buried in the boob tube for a while. The show definitely creates its own aesthetic, set of mannerisms, and speech delivery, and once you watch a few episodes, you’ll know it anywhere.

However, recently, I’ve seen advertisements for two other period dramas, Pan Am and The Playboy Club, showing this fall on network TV (ABC and NBC respectively). I’m used to seeing TV try and rip off other shows (see also Ridiculousness with Rob Dyrdek, showing soon on MTV–ripoff Tosh.0 much, execs over there?), at least in concept. Which seems to be more of what The Playboy Club does, but at times it, and most of the time what Pan Am seems to do is rip off the style of Mad Men–the mannerisms, the speed and style of line-delivery, etc. And that’s kind of annoying.

Don’t get me wrong, Mad Men is a great show. But it’s great because it’s not a desire to relive the early 1960s in NYC; rather it attempts to use the positive and the negative from the period within its realm to create drama without overlooking or promoting negative attributes of the period. So rather than relish in or gloss over the sexism and racism that were pervasive in the day in which the drama is being created, the show seems to lay them at its viewers’ feet, bare-boned and without apology. But it is this style of honesty that makes Mad Men worth watching, and what I don’t see in the sneak previews for the other two shows. That both worries and irks me.

Now that I’ve raised my concerns, here’s the rant: Hey, network TV, quit ripping off good shows and other people’s good ideas. Maybe fire your creative departments and start over because it’s been obvious for years you can’t find much of anything that works, let alone is unique, innovative, and good. Maybe instead of hiring a bunch of people with business degrees and actuarial mathematicians who calculate the time it will take for America to become totally fed up with the crap you’re putting over the airwaves, you should instead hire someone who actually cares about the work they produce instead of the money it will make them. Because if all you’re focused on is dollar bills or what your viewer stats are, you’re never going to produce anything good. And you’re going to keep making me pay for cable. Thanks a lot.

Baby Talk (is awful)

 

While I am goo-goo for Gaga, I’m pretty hardset against goo-goo and ga-ga baby talk.  You’re an adult.  Speak like an adult.  Don’t call your significant other “Booboo” or “My Wittle Wuv Monkey,” or anything remotely like that in public; it’s gross.  I don’t even think it’s okay for adults to use pet names in public for the most part.  Calling someone “Honey,” or “Dear,” or some tame name like those is fine because it’s not gross, it doesn’t feel dirty or drippy with sweetness.  Calling someone “Baby” or “Babe” or “Boo” or “Monkey” or whatever the hell you call them in bed is unacceptable.  Ask yourself: “Have I used this name while screwing?”  If the answer is yes, the name is private only.  If the answer is no, you can proceed with caution.  Think about it, in what situation can you imagine someone saying, “Oh yeah!  Go faster, honey!” in the bedroom.  Doesn’t that seem unlikely?
 
As a self-respecting adult, you shouldn’t speak a fake baby.  It makes you look stupid, crazy and really annoying.  Also, real babies don’t talk like that.  If you have a child, maybe you should try speaking to that child in your real voice while using real words.  Hearing actual means of communication will teach the child how to properly speak.  Would you want your children to actually speak in the way you seem to like to speak to them?  Baby talk is stupid.

Also, do you not know grammar?  Using improper grammar isn’t adorable.  It’s not even okay.  It’s just stupid.  Ugh…

 
I’m not against the occasional coochie-coo talk to actual babies; it’s cute, and they’re cute.  I get it.  I think it is good to tell children that they are cute and wonderful.  I do it too.  However, give kids some credit.  They can understand normal words.  They will appreciate being spoken to in normal ways.  Children are smarter than you realize.  Plus, they say awesome things.  Let the kids be cute and awesome.  Accept the fact that you are older and a little less awesome.

Drunk Love

***Not “Punch Drunk Love,” just “Drunk Love.”

Dear Dude 1,

You always text me when you’re wasted, or just a little drunk, or really tired.  You love me at night and try to pretend it never happened in the morning.  When you see me, I seem to be irresistible.  As soon as I’m gone, you tell me there’s nothing between us.  Make up your mind.  Don’t call me in the middle of the night, and expect me to change mine.

We are not together and you pretend not to like me in the day time.  Not gonna do it.  When you’re around me, you lick your lips and stare at my ass (which by the way is magnificent).  You can’t get enough of me.  You think I’m funny and smart and sassy and “incredibly sexy… too sexy.”  If these things are true, maybe you should admit that you like me and ask  me on a real date.  Get over it, you want to date me, you want to kiss me, you want to love me, you want to hold me, etc…

Love,

Sober Patty

We're in love and we're drunk.

Dear Dude 2,

You are a douche-bag.  Plain and simple.  Boom, douche-bag.  I will never have sex with you because you are a dirty, slutty man and I am far too clean for you.  I’m not “that” kind of girl.  Why do you think I’ll sleep with you?  If you couldn’t hit it last year, you can’t hit it now.

Sincerely,

Sober Patty

 

Dear Dude 3,

While I love you compliments about my dancing, I simply cannot consent to bringing you back to my apartment.  I have enjoyed dancing with you because you are one of few dudes who can and is willing to dance.  I also really liked when you said, “Damn girl! You must be from the streets!”  The country bumpkin in me appreciates being confused with more urban cultures.  It was also funny when you said, “Damn girl! [again] You must watch a lot of B.E.T.!”  I don’t even own a television, but I was tempted to say, “I learned it all from the Food Network,” but I didn’t know if you would laugh.  Oh, well.  I just laughed alone and in my head.   You were nice and all, but trying to kiss my neck on a dance floor isn’t my idea of courtship.  Not doing it!

Warm regards,

Sober Patty

Again, we're in love and we're drunk.

Dear Dude 4,

We had a liberal-off and both won – me for my stance on marriage and you for your love of Lady Gaga.  It’s not often I meet a guy wearing glasses (without claiming they’re ironic) in a bar.  We debated your friends about Pharrell; they were so wrong.

I’m glad I kissed you.

Good luck in New York,

Tipsy Patty

 

Oh, WTF, now there’s “Rich and Skinny,” too?

I thought “Young, Fabulous, and Broke” was a terrible name for a clothing line. Then I ran across this gem: Rich & Skinny. They make designer jeans for people who, I guess, are Rich. And skinny. Yeah, don’t forget that part. Prices seem to run between $100-$200, with a few outliers, and sizes from 23-32. What the hell, who is naming these companies?! Obviously they want to attract a certain kind of clientele, but good lord. Do you really have to be that in-your-face about it?

As Patty’s recent post, “FAT,” points out, our body images are skewed. Given that, do we really need to label clothing lines by price/economic class (Rich) and size (Skinny)? Aren’t there enough markers for these two categories?

I copied the following from the website’s “About Us”:

What are two things every girl wishes for???

1, To be Rich and 2, To be Skinny. Well thanks to Michael Glasser this dream has come true. And, we like to have a good laugh at ourselves also.

[…]

When Michael Glasser and Joie Rucker got together to create a new denim line it was inevitable they would launch a brand women would want to wear. “Rich” is for all the details, “Skinny” is for how the jeans make you look and feel, but you don’t have to be either to wear our jeans!

I think one of the things that disturbs me most about this company is the importance they give to being rich and skinny, and the assumption that everyone else desires to be these things, too. Au contraire, Mr. Fashion Deisgner, many of us are just happy being “average,” not “skinny.” (For more on these terms, also see “FAT.”) I quite like actually having a booty.

Also, may I just call bullshit on the feeble attempt to justify these terms, Rich and Skinny, as the name of their company? “‘Rich’ is for all the details, ‘Skinny’ is for how the jeans make you look and feel, but you don’t have to be either to wear our jeans!” Really? That’s the best you’ve got? Excuse me but to spend $150 on a pair of your jeans means I have to have some kind of economic clout, thanks very much. I could get 4 to 5 times that many pairs for the same price at Sears or JC Penny or something. Give me a break. And if you’re only going up to size 32, that’s the equivalent of a size 12. Maybe a 14. But obviously you’re not tailoring to a clientele that is anything over a size 14. Get real!!! If you’re going to be that brash about who you’re selling to (the “Rich and Skinny”), at least own it, instead of running away from it with your tail between your legs, you PR Pussies.

Maybe instead of telling every girl she should wish to be Rich and Skinny, maybe we should be telling women to wish to be (and work towards being) Smart and Confident.

Your Car is a POS. Deal With It.

Every once in a while I’ll see one zoom past me. The piece of shit car that’s been ‘revamped’ with a set of rims, a ridiculous speaker system that makes my ears melt from the inside out, a paint job that more often than not involves racing stripes or lightning bolts (or some other visual indication of “my car is fast“), neon headlights, and/or a wing/spoiler/giant-fin-thing or whatever that is near the trunk area.

Dear insane car owner, you know that no matter how you spin it, you’re still driving a piece of shit 1994 Geo Metro, right? I don’t care what you do to that car, it’s always going to look like it belongs to a nice grey-haired old lady.

No matter how you swing it, it's still a Honda Civic from the 90s.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I was the proud owner of a 1996 Chevrolet Corsica (RIP Frankenstein), but I knew my POS car was just that–a POS. I didn’t try to cover that up with paint and a gimmicky method of opening the doors. For all the money that people dump into the aesthetic appeal–if you can call it that–of a car whose engine and other functional parts are fifteen years old, they could buy a newer, nicer vehicle. For example:

Rims: Set of 4, roughly $4500

Spoiler/Rear Wing: $200

Paint Job: Between $500 and $50,000

Sound System: $500-$1000

Estimating on the low end of all these, you’ve got $5700. You could buy a normal, decent car that will run for at least the next five years on that. Take the two grand you likely dumped into a POS subcompact and you’re looking at a $7700 price tag.

That all said, if you’re still banking on getting chicks by telling them about your giant rear spoiler, good luck.

Kim Kardashian Gets Married and The World Explodes.

When I googled “Kim Kardashian Wedding” it came up with 55,400,000 hits.  Then, I googled “Mother Teresa,” and got 12,000,000 hits.  Holy crap.  Also, “Pluto” (formerly known as a planet) only gets 50,900,000.  If you are brave enough to simply google the name “Kim Kardashian,” you’ll get 163,000,000 results.  One hundred sixty three million hits.  “Bill Clinton” only gets 51,000,000.

She doesn’t even do anything.  She’s just a pretty girl with a big ole booty.

I’m too annoyed to write a whole post.  I hope you will all just see how dumb this is.

WHY?