So, this Turkish columnist  complained that female Olympic athletes don't look feminine enough.  I'm not going to try and criticize him because that seems a frivolous waste of time; everyone on the internet is already doing it for me, and I'd hate to reinvent the wheel.

But it got me thinking about the frustrations I had just trying to find a decent workout video recently.  I don't know much about Turkish culture; I know what I stand for in terms of feminism and human rights and being fuuucking tired of women being objectified, especially when they're a little busy doing magnificent things like winning gold medals - and I am not particularly educated on the obstacles Turkish women face with jackasses like this guy complaining that they don't look pretty enough while they are accomplishing shit that I'd have to imagine this columnist never will.

But really, is it just culture? Lots of times we attribute commentary like that to a different culture and different set of expectations for women in other countries - but every single workout video I own tells me not only that it will make my body look sexy, but also that I'll look sexy while doing it.  Seriously, I need to look fucking sexy while getting my lazy ass in shape?  I got bored of my collection of...maybe 7 aerobic and yoga work out videos, so I headed to the library to look for some more and, perhaps not so shockingly, not a single work out video directed at men had to do with sexiness, but almost every single one targeted at female audiences highlighted how 'sexy' I'd look while doing it. 

First, it's awkward when your 10 year old sister wants to work out with you and the workout instructor comments 17 times how sexy you must look while doing this move.  Secondly, fuck anyone who thinks women should look sexy while working out.  Who the hell looks sexy while working out??

I repeatedly promise myself that I will become a consistent blogger, then fret when I feel what I have to say is repetitive of other (awesome) soapboxers that have opinions on things.  So today, I've decided to just blog the things I've been pondering today.

Is McDonalds an official sponsor of the Olympics because they think it's good press, or do they secretly want all athletes to develop type II diabetes?

Am I the first person who has sat in the Severna Park branch library and cried while watching (moving) youtube videos?

Is my hair really so bad that the saleslady felt compelled while I was shopping today to thrust a flat-iron into my hand before she even began her push sales speech?  Did she not notice my hair is already about as flat as humanly possible?

Could I pull off a shaved head?

I get that nonprofits are often working on limited budgets, I do.  And I am looking for work with one and understand it may not be the most lucrative job and I am okay with that.  But why is it okay to ask for 5 years of experience for a job that pays $35,000 a year and requires a Master's degree that probably cost twice that in student loan debt?  Why is that okay???

Will my name move up on the library's waiting list for Pretty Little Liars today?  Holding steady at 9, maybe we'll get to 8 tomorrow.

If libraries are quiet spaces, how come there's a children's section?

Should I join the library knitting club and sit with 20 women ages 65+ every Tuesday morning and hear about their grandchildren?  I'd probably get alot of work done on my blanket.

It's Wednesday at 4pm.  I clearly need a job.  What is this post.  Why.

I always love to see people supporting The Trevor Project.  Not just because they are awesome at saving lives and supporting young LBGTQ people in crisis, but also because, without question - any one of those Lifeline Counselors would talk patiently and lovingly with uber conservative anti-LGBT folks, too.  Love, compassion, and support surrounds all that they do, and they'd never want to deny civil rights or compassion or crisis intervention to anyone.

Eat-More-Veggies

I swore I wasn't going to do this.  Blog about Chick Fil A.  Maybe I have years ago, because I've known for years that they donate money to anti-gay causes and being vegetarian/vegan that entire time, I've had little reason to spend money there anyway (oh plus, I like my arteries... even if Chick Fil A donated money to super awesome queer causes, I'd probably skip the fast food and donate directly to...super awesome queer causes).  Anyway, every once in a while I go back through my blog, get self-conscious about my writing, and delete all the old posts.  Chances are good that I've already vented my feelings about Chick Fil A, and chances are that I have nothing new to say given the 15K+ articles streaming through my facebook news feed every day, most leaning left, a few that make me question why I'm facebook friends with anyone who is proud of their lack of support for civil rights and equality.

But naturally, my desire to have the last word or the best word or just MY word has taken over, so here it goes.

Yesterday a relative said to me something about people should spend their money where they want, he respects both sides and people being informed consumers and all.  Great. That makes sense.  Until he continued on that people could do that without sharing their opinion and just keep it to themselves.  He wishes gay activists and allies would just stop talking about it.

I'll admit, even I, queen of never letting things go and always wanting to continue conversations on any social issue (until I win), have gotten a little exhausted of reading incessant facebook comments and article shares on one side or the other of the Chick-Fil-A issue.  But by no means does that mean people should stop talking about it.

I'd venture to say that anyone of the opinion someone should just 'keep it to themselves' that they are upset about systemic, societal discrimination that withholds some of their civil rights - is probably not one of the ones lacking this civil right.  That this person might feel differently if Chick-Fil-A was donating millions of dollars to "Don't let hetero couples get married" type of causes, which I'm fairly certain...don't exist.  If you think someone should just get over something, or keep it to themselves, or stop talking about a social issue - please ask yourself first, why do I feel this way?  Is it because I'm on the privileged side of the issue and NONE of this affects my life negatively in any way?  (Hint: If you are one of these people and answer no, you're in denial).

Okay, end rant that says nothing new on the Chick-Fil-A issue and is clearly my need to vent to a relative that I can't say things to in real life.  Eat your vegetables and continue supporting civil rights for all (as I'm pretty sure my blog is not popular with the anti-gay community and I'm just preaching to the choir).

Eat kale chips. They're delicious.

We're not in Kansas anymore.

Thankfully.

If you're wondering why this is my first post of my roadtrip adventures that has no pictures, it's because there's nothing worth taking pictures of in Kansas.

I know that's harsh, and rude, and I apologize - every place I visit, even if it's not my favorite, I try to be respectful of the fact that people live there, and there have to be some redeeming qualities everywhere.  There must be some good qualities of Kansas, but they are certainly not visible from I-70.  Unless you think pretty landscape is grass, dead grass, and wheat.

Yesterday I drove the 846 miles from Denver to St Louis.  This wasn't quite the plan - I stopped in Kansas City, Missouri, where I had a hotel room for an employee rate thanks to a relative.  Of course, they wouldn't let me use the employee rate without a staff ID card, which I obviously didn't have, so when I realized it would cost me 2.5 times more than expected, responsible unemployed citizen that I am, I drove across the street to a no-name motel advertising rooms for 40 dollars a night. 

I'm not totally naive - I know that 40 dollars for a night won't get me a continental breakfast, plush cozy bedding, Wifi, or a pool.  All I really ask for is that bedding be clean, the door be lockable, and a functioning smoke detector be in the room.  

I checked into this no name motel (actually, it has a name I'm considering reporting to the Department of Sanitation...as well as the local Fire Department) and proceeded to room 120, and called Amanda to let her know I'd safely arrived somewhere from the night post-Denver.   Oddly, it was while I was on the phone with this fire protection engineer friend of mine that I noticed the smoke detector was sitting on the floor, battery-lessly, next to a wall with distinctive black burn marks.   Her response was "No, you can't stay there," but I decided to first check for bed bugs and if I didn't see anything gross or alarming on the bed, it was do-able for the night.  Though I didn't find bed bugs, I quickly noticed the burn marks on the comforter and sheets, followed by some hair on the sheets that....we'll just say confirmed my suspicions that they weren't washed after a previous visitor. Er, visitors - plural, probably.

This is when I ventured back to the motel office to let them know I'd need a refund and would not be staying there that night.

I hate being that person - I really do - it's not like I didn't know I was getting some shady accomodations for $40 - but as I mentioned, the only basics I expect for that low price are clean sheets and a room where I am sufficiently warned if there is a fire.  

"Um hi - listen, I don't mean to be difficult - " I started with the staff person who checked me in "but there are a few problems with that room."
"Give her a different room," spoke a man nearby that I quickly realized to be the manager.
"Well actually...," I started to say, I just want a refund and to get the hell out of here before bed bugs start climbing on me.  But I never got the chance.
"Oh that's okay, we'll just give you a refund."
"Oh um  - perfect.  Just so you know, the smoke detector in that room..."
But again I was interrupted.
"Oh sure, there are some problems.  But look at our clientele.  That's what you get."

A second later, I did indeed get to look at the client(ele), as she burst through the door screaming that they let someone else into her room.   A woman, probably no more than my age, wearing the uniform of a nearby retail store, erupted into a screaming rant about how she just got back from work and someone else was in her room.

"I paid for a WEEK," she started "I don't have to be out until TOMORROW, and you *&#*% # gave my room away!!"

I watched as she and the manager, who had politely, almost psychically accomodated my request, both screamed at each other, arguing about whether she had to be out Sunday at 11am or 11pm.  Though the client was obviously wrong, I didn't stay to see whose screaming finished last, and quickly scrawled my signature on the refund receipt the staff person printed for me and bolted for the door.

Now to be fair to Kansas - this ordeal was actually in Missouri, which misguidedly allows itself to have a city named after the most boring state in the Union (again, apologies to any Kansas lovers).  But after wasting 6 hours of my life driving through possibly the most boring landscape known to mankind, and witnessing up close how this business owner legitimately did not care whether impoverished long-term clients died in a fire or not in own of his rooms, I was pretty done with the whole region.

So I trekked on another 4 hours to St Louis, where I planned to arrive on Monday evening, to stay with a friend, Abby, from grad school.   Though this meant skipping my hippie-town adventure planned for Westport, Mo on Monday, I am perfectly okay with this.  And will be satisfied if I never venture into Kansas, or Kansas city, ever again.

What I'm doing in Denver

Many of you have asked what I'm doing in Denver.  Or, like 2 people have asked that but I'm sure everyone else is wondering and I don't know what else to write about today, but feel that I should write something as I set that pesky goal for myself of consistently writing and it's been about 4 days since that has happened.

So, here's what I'm doing in Denver.

1.  Taking some time off of my 2700 mile drive home, the first 1000 miles of which looked something like this (why yes, I am drinking iced coffee out of a pink sparkly Las Vegas travel mug).  Don't worry, I was parked when I took this picture.

2. Getting a pedicure while drinking 1/2 priced wine.  Best Thursday evening activity ever.  At least, I think it will be.  It hasn't happened yet...as it is not yet Thursday evening.

3. Touring the Celestial Tea Factory, and wondering why you'd give away free tours of your factory if you're so concerned about spies that no photos are allowed inside.  If you're concerned about spies - don't give out free tours.  Am I right?

4. Marveling over how stylish I look in a hair net at the tea factory.

           

5. Baking the same cake Ellen Degeneres and Portia DeRossi eat, from Vegan Cooking for Carnivores, by Roberto Martin (Ellen and Portia's chef).  Then eating cake for lunch. 

6.  Watching the entire series of Arrested Development (for the 15th time or so) in Amanda's living room while she's at work.  While searching for jobs online, of course.

7.  Taking life advice from the mother of a 10 year old while lounging in the hot tub at 9:30pm.  Hearing about how terrifying it is to have a pre-teen in days where kids are becoming sexually active at incredibly young ages.  Making plans to bring wine the next time I visit the public pool/hot tub in Amanda's apartment complex.

8. Making friends with Sparkly people.

9. Exercising at high-altitudes (mile high city!) in Amanda's zumba class so that exercising feels incredibly easy when I don't want to pass out at over 5,000 feet altitude.  Seriously, high altitudes kick my ass.

10.  Waiting for Amanda to be off work for the weekend for some quality friend time!

Happy Thursday!

Arches, hippie food, and 549 miles

Yesterday, I drove from Salina to Arches National Park.  Proof that I was there:

 The park was gorgeous.  See my facebook album with dozens of poor quality photos.  After completing a 2 mile hike in 93 degree weather, I approached my car and overheard what I thought was a gay male couple speaking in French.  Then, I overheard one of the men tell the others that I was pretty - an awesome compliment to hear as the beads of sweat dripped down my back.

Then I headed over to the Peace Tree Juice Cafe (did I mention when I planned this trip, my first step was googling "Hippie Towns USA"??) for a tasty hummus wrap and Desert Nectar smoothie.   Next time you're in Moab -  stop there for some deliciousness (and if my hippie vegan tendencies in food don't appeal to you, never fear, they have animal products too).

It's a wonder I made it over 500 miles yesterday considering I felt compelled to stop every 20 miles or so for photo ops.  Utah is freaking beautiful.

It is ALSO a wonder I made it to Denver; as I drove through the mountains in Colorado while my car refused to venture over 50 miles (when the speed limit was 65 to 75 mph the entire way) an hour up the steep grade, I patted it on the dash chanting "I think you can I think you can I think you can." 

Luckily, my car agreed with me and she did in fact, make it over the hill. 

In Denver for a fun filled week with my friend Amanda, then 1689 miles to go!