Bad mood

I'm. In. A. Bad. Mood. Have you ever had one of those days where there is not a specific trigger, no particular precipitant but you still felt so irritable? A day when Limp Bizkit's "Break Stuff" seems apropos. Ripping some one's head off feels like it wouldn't suffice. An intense and possibly violent response to an invisible provocation is warranted on these days.

It's one of those mornings where wherever you go, whomever you see, whatever you do you're...annoyed. That coworker who comes in whistling "Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah" every morning, the underling who lies in wait for your arrival and upon seeing your "online" status immediately starts bombarding you with complaints, the man who shoves past you in the elevator... You just want to smash them in the face. As your day begins and you interact with them you actually envision punching them in the face. And though that image is briefly gratifying, your bad mood persists.

There is no remedy for one of these bad days. All you can hope for is that you can successfully ride it out without a major incident...or injury.

Urban Hipster Doofus

What the hell is wrong with Urban Outfitters? Has their perpetual coolness affected their collective brain causing temporary insanity?


Can I just say...EWW.


...and "Obama black"? Really?Are they that stupid or are they trying to generate some free publicity by being controversial?

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Keep out

Private as defined by Dictionary.com: "confined to or intended for the persons immediately concerned; undertaken individually or personally".

P-R-I-V-A-T-E. Is this a difficult concept to grasp? Apparently so because I just experienced a violation. Let me make a suggestion...if you ask someone a question and they don't answer it means they don't want to talk about it. It DOES NOT mean that they want you to walk over to them and then loudly repeat the question. And when they continue to avoid answering it really, really means they don't want to talk about it. I mean, get a clue.

Why must people press? Do you not have enough to do to occupy yourself? Are you so bored that you must entertain yourself by making a spectacle of yourself and others uncomfortable? Is this a feeble attempt to redirect the spotlight on yourself? If so I'll let you on on a secret...I. Don't. Want. The. Spotlight. It's all yours. But have the decency to refrain from using my name and privacy to garner such attentions.

I am intensely private. If you hadn't already noticed my blog fails to include any personally identifiable information or photos. There's a reason for that. So when I purposely choose to maintain such levels of privacy especially in my workplace it galls me when I am outed against my will. It's not as though I'm coy about it. I don't demure while harboring a secret hope you'll come over and drag it out of me anyway. The signs are obvious. I ignore your questions on the subject. When cornered I re frame. I reflect. I avoid. Yet you continue to press...

What I fail to understand is why you want to know? What about my personal comings and goings is so fascinating that you disregard social norms in pursuit of your objective? Is it curiosity? Jealousy? Indignation? Might any juicy bits of info you procure buy you entry into the "in" crowd? If you proffer some info on me will they start including you? Might it buy you an invitation to lunch? A false sense of belonging?

I am acutely aware of your real job in the workplace-resident gossip. I've witnessed you and your tribe cackling voraciously about others while sharpening your fangs. I've heard your version of others' statements. It's fascinating to hear how much the story changes when it simply comes out of your mouth. It's like an adult version of the childhood game Telephone. The facts take so many twists and turns by the time you retell them they're unrecognizable.

Simply put I don't want my name coming out of your mouth. It may be rude but apparently subtlety is lost on you. I must be brutally direct. Have you noticed you don't see much of me throughout the day? It's intentional. I walk an extra 5 minutes out of my way to avoid your general area. I relocated my space. I don't solicit your feedback. At meetings I sit opposite you. I don't seek out your company so why would you ever think I would divulge any personal information?

If you really, really want to know "how it went" I have an idea. Why don't you ask the other people who were present? Get it right from the horse's mouth so to speak. No? They might be offended? You could get in trouble you say? You weren't included in the meeting so you can't really ask them? Huh...guess you're right...so maybe you should mind your own business.

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"To the person in my apt complex..."

I came across this post online and just had to share. Love it! I think I've found my blog soul mate. Enjoy...(BTW it was anonymous so no one to credit).

To the person in my apartment complex who likes the sound of their car alarm: It still works. I promise. Yet day after day, night after night, restful Saturday morning after.....REM-interrupted Saturday morning, you faithfully sound your car alarm for a few seconds, turn it off, then sound it again. Just to be DOUBLE sure that your equipment is functional. Sometimes, you'll even allow it to go off for 15 seconds or so while standing beside the car as if to simulate the experience a thief might have as he tries to jack your shit. 'NOT THIS HONDA OWNER, buddy,' you might think to yourself while stifling a prideful chuckle.....you of all people know 10 year old Accords are worth tirelessly protecting, and you do your job well.

I don't mean to belittle your OCD as I'm sure it's a crippling condition, but I assure you that after your repeated tireless and vigorous testing, the rest of the apartment community is in agreement that your alarm must be one of the finest and most reliable caliber - that is, rain or shine, it always seems to sound. Winter, spring, summer, fall. Through snow and sun alike. Nothing can stop yours. Bravo.

It is with immeasurable regret that I must warn you that should the routine continue 12 times a day, you might find a brick through your windshield. Wonder if your alarm will go off then? For the first time, it might be music to my ears.

Regards,
Your neighbor across the way and three buildings over (yep, we can hear it down here)
HELPFUL HINT: It defeats the purpose of having a car alarm if we're all so used to hearing it that no one bats an eye when we hear it going off for the 9th time today.

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Jesse James behaving badly

Let's be clear- I already thought Jesse James was a neanderthal but his recent feeble attempts to justify his actions just confirmed my suspicions. Douche bag.

Have you seen his interview on Nightline?
http://abcnews.go.com/m/pane?pk=/Nightline

What a slimeball. If what he says is true I am sorry for him. But...it's no excuse for his behavior. Using childhood abuse as justification for immoral and irresponsible behavior devalues the experiences of real survivors of abuse. There are plenty of adults who endured horrific experiences as children and yet manage to make responsible, mature decisions. They don't pull an abuse card whenever they need an out.

Man up Jesse. You had the cajones to bed dozens of women outside of your marriage. If you really thought you didn't deserve Sandra Bullock then why did you marry her in the first place? C'mon...weak, weak excuse. It's clear by your entitled behavior that you feel you deserve quite a bit. You're not sorry for your actions, you're sorry you got caught. There's a difference. I'm sure if Bombshell McGee hadn't sold you out you'd still be up to your same tricks today. At least have the balls to own your actions.

I'm tired of high profile men trotting out childhood trauma as rationalization for bad behavior. As a mental health professional I am acutely aware of the intense personal struggles people endure. These struggles are mostly private. When and if the abuse is disclosed publicly it's usually done so for closure or other therapeutic reasons. Childhood abuse frequently rears its head well before a public transgression. Using abuse as justification for your behavior is reprehensible and inappropriate.

Shame on you Jesse James...

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Quit

I have a revolutionary idea. It's guaranteed to knock your socks off. If you have a job...go to it. Every day. All day.

Yes, despite the recession there are people who are gainfully employed who simply choose not to go to work. I work with those people. Lots of them.

This confuses me. If you don't like your job, quit. I understand you'd rather lounge on the beaches of Turks & Caicos than work- who wouldn't? I'd like 20 million dollars, eternal youth and the metabolism of a newborn. Sucks to be us.

What I don't get is why you resent being asked to do your job. It's not as though you're being asked to do something you find abhorrent. There is a simple solution, Q-U-I-T. Take this job and shove it. Homey don't play 9-5. Hasta la vista.

No one is making you do anything. If you don't want to work, quit. There will a line around the block for your job. They'll probably work harder and for less money. But if you choose to remain...I'd like to make a few suggestions.

You can't call in sick every Monday and Friday. You can't take 10 breaks a day. You can't surf the web for porn. You can't take 2 hour lunches. You can't come in 3 hours late and then immediately take a break. You can't sit on the phone with your boyfriend reviewing his performance last night-FYI we record all calls and these intimate conversations totally entertain us at staffings.

There is a finite number of vacation days and guess what- you've used them all. You don't accrue additional days when you're not at work. You say you have a hard time making it in by 9 because you were out until 4 am? I totally understand. That sucks. But I still expect you to be at work on time and ready to go. I am. So can you.

No one owes you anything. Having expectations that you will come to work and actually do your job is not oppression. "The Man" isn't trying to keep you down. It's called life. You perform a task in exchange for a predetermined amount of money. No one is going pay you for sitting on your fat ass while you stuff your face with Cheetos and Facebook about the guy you hooked up with at the gym. You're not that special. So suck it up, drag yourself to work and daydream of that one week a year you get to blow your entire vacation fund on a week long road trip to Disney with your 3 screaming kids and hen-pecking wife. Kinda makes that job sound better by the hour, huh?

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TMI

If you have a car or drive anywhere you are probably all too familiar with this scene already:

I'm almost at a loss for words but then...Most.Absurd.Thing.Ever. This ranks right up there with those nauseating precious "Baby on Board" signs.


What exact purpose did those serve? Was I expected to alter my driving habits simply because (allegedly) the vehicle's occupants had a baby in the car? Pshaw.

What's the point? Do I really need to know that Ma and Pa Smith have a boy, two twin girls, a dog, a cat, and a parakeet? I already know from their various bumper stickers, magnets and window clings that they voted for McCain, bought their car at Autoworld, don't believe in evolution, love Corgis, think it's "better in the Bahamas", play soccer and football, cheer for Chippewa High School, are on the honor roll, have a Harley, think their ferret is smarter than my first grader and admire Calvin's (of Calvin and Hobbs) urination skills. I'm already exhausted from reading their car and I haven't even reached my destination.

How much information is too much information? When does personal pride and investment become obnoxious and obsequious? Do these various declarations constitute visual pollution? What type of information should we refrain from publicly declaring?

Personally I think anything beyond a license plate constitutes vehicular diarrhea. And if I could get away with it I'd dispense with its use. What is the purpose of all this "sharing"? How is it beneficial?

Perhaps the fact that you have a five year old son named Colton who is #13 on the Wildcats baseball team of Riverside Elementary in Brainard County is of interest to that raging pedophile in the grey Aztec following you. Or maybe your name airbrushed on the drivers side door will come in handy when the potential car jacker calls out your name while his accomplice takes your car.

Knowing each of your family members' names, place of business, school and home address is entirely too much information. The public sharing of private information to an unknown and unfiltered audience has potentially serious implications. We don't walk around with our name and telephone number emblazoned on our shirt. There's a reason for that. Why would we then choose to advertise the same information on our vehicles?

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Dubya's legacy

Thanks Bush. Your legacy yet grows...

usdebtclock.org

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A dog's life

I've been giving it a lot of thought and I've decided-I want to be reincarnated as one of my puppies.

The more I think about it the more I wouldn't mind having my dogs' lives. What's not to love? Your day is packed with walks, playtime and treats. And unlike a child who eventually matures into an adult, there are no expectations. No bills to pay. No credit score to monitor. No 401Ks, mortgages, car payments or student loans. You never "grow up", you never have responsibilities. You simply are.

Your only concession is your dignity- but as a dog how much dignity do you really need? I mean you eat your own poop. You may have to put up with an occasional doggie dress and baby talk from your human but the implicit meaning behind these embarrassing displays is pure love and adoration. And who doesn't want that? It's a great gig.

So I say when my time comes- God send me back as a beloved and pampered Chihuahua. And if possible...fully intact. Amen.

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Does it really take a village?

Maybe I was raised by an odd mother. Maybe she imparted an overly defined sense of self-sufficiency. Maybe I'm a cold, unfeeling, critical wench. Maybe. But when did I become responsible for complete strangers?

There's a neighbor kid who consistently solicits people for help. I'm not talking: "Hi, I'm Susie. Would you like to buy some Thin Mints?" I'm talking: "Can you give me a ride to the pool and then do my laundry?"

Let me make an important distinction-I speak of total strangers. I don't know who these people are or their names. I'm not even sure where they live. Yet this kid asks me to complete chores and run errands for her on a regular basis.

It's totally bizarre. It started one day while walking my dogs. Her dog ran outside and tried to engage my puppies. The kid comes to her back patio, leans against the door in her jammies lazily snacking on some toast and asks if she can pet my dogs. I tell her she's welcome to. She proceeds to instruct me to bring my dogs to her so she can pet them. WTF?

Naturally I'm not going to walk into a total stranger's house to ask their 8 yr old kid to pet my dogs. (Can we say pervert?) I reply that we haven't concluded our walk yet but she is welcome to come outside and pet the pups with her parents' consent. The kids tells me to "wait a minute", then goes back inside leaving me to await her return. Ten.Minutes.Later. Right.

The next day when her dog gets loose and begins terrorizing running around the neighborhood, she directs me to find her dog and bring it to her house. Sure thing. Just this weekend as I pulled out of my driveway she flagged me down to ask me if I could take her to the pool. At your service.

Safety issues aside, since when did it become appropriate to teach our children a) to ask total strangers for assistance, and b) to delegate one's responsibilities to others?

There's a narcissistic slant to social interactions these days. I'm not sure if it's a sign of the times or just plain old complacency. People not only assume that you should want to do their crap but they expect you do their crap. And the part that pisses me off surprises me is that they have no shame in doing so.

I fully endorse the concept of a collective conscience and social responsibility. Some McCarthyites Republicans might even accuse me of having socialistic views on some issues but...I have enough to do. If I wanted the responsibilities of raising a child I'd have my own. I have my own household to run. I'm not a chauffeur. I'm not a babysitter. I simply happen to live in your neighborhood. Since when did proximity engender familiarity?

I understand if you need someone to pickup your mail, walk your dog or drop your kid off at the pool. We all lead busy lives. My life is just as busy. I don't ask you come over and scoop my cat's shit. When was the last time I asked you go ahead and pickup my mail also while you were at the mailboxes? Never? There's a reason for that. I don't know you. I'm. A. Stranger. I'd like to keep it that way.

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Shero

Can I just say I think it's awesome that little girls today have a female action heroine:








What an excellent role model.
Outstanding.

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Southeners behaving badly

It's official, chivalry is dead in the south. Or perhaps it never really existed. A cultural urban legend.

I live in the south, the deep south. Think Scarlett & Rhett, boiled peanuts and Moon Pies. And yet...as a Yankee I have yet to witness a grand southern gesture. I have never seen a man tip his hat to a woman (let alone take it off when inside), walk street-side nor pull out her chair. And not once while traveling mass transit have I seen a man offer his seat to a woman.

This evening while teetering on three inch stilettos (what was I thinking) in a packed subway I noticed something- the majority of seats were occupied by men. As I scanned the car I realized that only women were standing. Some young, some senior but all women.

As I was contemplating this my stop approached and a most peculiar thing happened. One of the seated men began jockeying with me at the door. This man who remained seated while mothers, grandmothers and sisters stood had the gall to try and push me out of the way to exit.

What has led us to this cultural insensitivity? I don't think this is a gender bias, rather I believe this is a cultural phenomenon. My experiences abroad have shown me that chivalrous behavior is part of the culture. (The flip side being that machismo is as prevalent). A man would be ashamed to remain seated while a woman stood in a crowded bus. And it's not just men. I've seen kids and young women rise and offer their seats to older women. It's not a consideration, it's reflexive.

So what happened to us? Have Americans lost our manners? Have Southerners lost their charm? Has feminism stomped out all gentlemanly behavior? What accounts for Southerners behaving so badly?


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Student loan dodgers

I am appalled. While sharing my unabashed glee at finally paying off my student loan some friends let me in on a dirty little secret. They don't pay on their loans. Ever.

How do they manage that? Defer, defer, defer. The part that really pisses me off surprises me is that they can afford to pay their loans, they simply choose not to. And here's the kicker- they have no intention of ever paying them. One individual is considering purchasing a larger home and a luxury car. When I enquired how she could afford it when she is not current on her loans she dismissively replied: "They're in forbearance". FYI- She graduated 6 years ago and has a lucrative career.

Another friend clearly has the funds to pay her loans but instead chooses to spend that money on Louis Vuitton purses and vacations. When I asked how she was able to postpone her loans for over 10 years she just laughed at me and replied: "I defer them. No one ever checks. No one pays their student loan."

Am I missing something? I was under the impression that defaulting on federal student loans was financial suicide. I envisioned creditors descending like locusts, going to the ends of the earth to collect their debt. Suzie Orman would flip out.

Curious that perhaps I had missed a plausible loophole I researched the issue. Acceptable reasons to defer student loans include: "your death, total disability, unemployment, economic hardship, enrollment in school, or membership in a uniformed service".

Student loan debt is virtually inescapable. Unless you suddenly lose a limb or drop dead the bottom line is- the government intends to collect. Even bankruptcy will not discharge your loan. The government can take your income tax refund, garnish your wages, prevent you from renewing a professional license or even enlisting. In the case of Lockhart vs US the federal government collected unpaid student loans by withholding social security. Since there was no statute of limitations they got their money, albeit many years later. And P.S.-interest accrues on deferments.

So I hope my friends enjoy their new houses, luxury items and vacations. Because when the Feds catch up with them (and clearly they will) they'll repossess their walker if they can apply it to the outstanding balance.

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Open letter to my neighbors

Dear Neighbors,

To the neighbor who regularly attempts to cram three vehicles in a two car driveway: while your tenacity is admirable, let me give you some insight- it's not working. Not only have you failed to accomplish your objective but you have succeeded in making the street look ghetto. Can I make a suggestion? You have a garage. Use it. I understand you prefer to cram it to capacity with useless crap but that's not my problem. I have a garage. I use it. You should too.

To the neighbor who asked the HOA to cut down all the trees because you have "tree rats": have you checked your attic for a hole? I know it's unreasonable of me to expect you to rule out other possibilities before you deforest our entire neighborhood. Perhaps next time you have an issue such as a leaky toilet the HOA can rip out every one's bathrooms. FYI- tree rats originate from Australia so unless this thing flies, it's called a squirrel. They're everywhere. Get over it.

To the neighbor who screams at her kid: I can hear you. I know all about how Tiffany is having unprotected sex with that 25 year old. It sounds like the whole thing stresses you out. Now it's stressing me out. The next time she comes home with a giant hickey do me a favor- close your windows. Better yet stop by Planned Parenthood and pick up some condoms.

To the neighbor with the nightly booty call: I respect your right to some late night loving but can you ask your underage lover to not rev his engine when he leaves at 2am? Although we admire his Yosemite Sam mudflaps and rebel flag plate, the squealing of tires and Dukes of Hazard horn are overkill. We already know he's a redneck. And FYI, the screaming neighbor says he's gay.

To the neighbor who lets his dog run freely through the community: while I think your pup is incredibly annoying adorable he's not that adorable. I don't appreciate him running into my house and pissing everywhere. I know he just wants to play but my dogs don't and they freak out when he jumps on them. Repeatedly. And sending your 8 year old kid to ask me to help corral your dog is a nice touch. Really? Man up. Leash your dog or the next time he's terrorizing roaming the neighborhood he might get run over by that redneck lover boy.

To the neighbor who regularly places their garbage in my garbage can: you're not fooling anyone. I know it's you. While I understand the gravity of the current economic situation, I assumed since you drive a Lexus LS 460 that a $6/month disposal fee wouldn't bankrupt you. If you can't afford to pay someone to cart away your waste then I suggest you create less. Perhaps we can strike a mutually beneficial arrangement- leave your car keys outside and I'll drive your Lexus whenever I feel like it. No? Then I suggest you pony up the $6/month fee, get your own trash can and stop sneaking into mine at 1am. BTW-I returned your steaming bag of cat shit. You're welcome.

Your Neighbor

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To mother...or not to mother...

Lately I've been thinking a lot about babies. I'm not sure I want to have any. I'm not sure I don't want to have any. I'm just not sure.

I don't have that intense baby lust women my age are supposed to have. I keep waiting to hear that ubiquitous ticking of the clock. Yet the impulse to pre-select names for my unborn progeny eludes me.

Friends have babies and I happily admire their perfect little toes and fingers and inhale that incredibly intoxicating baby smell. And briefly...(briefly mind you) I imagine myself with one. But then I go home, eat Skittles for dinner and run with scissors. There's something to be said for living dangerously.

Am I being selfish? Is it my biological destiny and feminine obligation to procreate? Am I a failure as a woman if I choose not to breed? Would I miss out on something? Would my life be lacking if I was childless?

As with any problematic situation I weigh the pros and cons. PRO: babies are cute and cuddly. CON: these cute and cuddly creatures cry all the time and sleep erratically. PRO: peekaboo, play dates, recitals, and soccer games. CON: peekaboo, play dates, recitals, and soccer games. PRO: raising an intelligent, assertive person. CON: having that same person make you park two blocks away because they're too embarrassed to be seen with you.

Then of course there's the concern that I might birth a demon child. You know the ones...those brats kids that seem to be everywhere they shouldn't be: restaurants, movie theaters and the adjacent airplane seat. Their shrill cries never fail to hit that perfect octave guaranteed to make you take a vow of celibacy.

Accompanying these hellions angels are their perennially harried mothers. They always look like they need a good nights sleep, an outfit sans vomit and a clue. My favorite part is when they threaten that they'll "turn around and go right home" if Mikey doesn't stop [insert annoying behavior here]. They.Never.Do. Hell, I'd warm up the car for them if they'd actually follow through. What follows is an embarrassing display of begging and cajoling. Guess who wins out in the end?

So...when people ask me: "When are you going to have kids?" I guess I'd have to say I really don't know. My biological clock must be on permanent snooze.

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"How celebrities are saving the planet"

I just read an absurd headline: "How Celebrities are saving the planet". And yes, they capitalized "celebrities".

I'm perplexed... Riddle me this Batman-exactly how are celebrities saving the planet? Is there some celebrity superhero league that I am not aware of? Are Heidi Montag's ginormous breast implants really surface to air missiles? Does Kiefer Sutherland come from a planet far, far away? (Although that would definitely explain Tom Cruise). And is alcohol his kryptonite?


Why would celebrities set aside their obscene per diems to address the planet's impending demise? Once the photo op passed would they be capable of having a truly altruistic moment? Would we even want them to?

Celebrities are like the living room furniture-appropriate for entertaining but otherwise have no functional use. Why would the media attempt to inject substance into a phenomena totally devoid of such? If anything celebrities have shown us that someone with the most advantages and every available resource can still...fuck it all up. Tiger Woods anyone?

So knowing (and appreciating) their penchant for attention-seeking behavior and access to gross amounts of money, drugs and influence would we freely hand them this responsibility of "saving the world"?

I'm actually kind of offended. Amused, but still offended. I know most Americans read at a sixth grade level but the idea insults my intelligence. World-renowned scientists and heads of state have yet to accomplish what perhaps Hugh Grant could do with one self-effacing joke about his tendency for tardiness? All this time we've been studying the effects of global warming, trying to remedy our rape of mother nature's natural resources when all we had to do is send Kim Kardashian to fanny about in a mini while Britney shaves her head.

Now...who wants to break the news to Al Gore?

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Poseurs

Poseurs. Wikipedia defines a Poseur as a "person who adopts the dress, speech, and/or mannerisms of a group or subculture, generally for attaining acceptability within the group, yet who is deemed to not share or understand the values or philosophy of the subculture." We all know them. They're your friends and acquaintances who are so hip it hurts.

Most poseurs have a relative subsidizing their lifestyle. They are above discussing mundane issues such as finances, money or the economy because they are a non-issue. They rather discuss their blog on collecting bottle caps from third world countries and how to make organic miso-glazed salmon with cauliflower mash. The urban poseur buys a refurbished crack house for 300K cash (in a neighborhood of foreclosed homes) so they can say they live in the city.

They claim poverty and disenfranchisement through proximity rather than experience. Poseurs buy their clothing from thrift stores and deride their parents' carbon footprints but drive Land Rovers and BMWs. They have local organic food delivered to their homes and complain about the "sobering reality of our new planet" but spend $8 every morning for their skinny cinnamon dolce latte and muffin from Starbucks.

They reference obscure books, art and music. They pride themselves on their anti-establishment mentality but are registered Republicans and vacation on Figure Eight Island with private chefs and nannies on staff.

If you're ever at a dinner party with poseurs (as I recently had the pleasure) and want to have some real fun I have a few suggestions. When asked: "Why would you want to live in the suburbs?", reply "Because I enjoy breathing fresh air, wearing my jewelry in public and not being gang-raped on the way to the mailbox." When they talk about how their acupuncturist says they have "too much fire and wood", reply "My urologist can fix that for you." And when they complain about how "Corporate America has forced all the Mom & Pops stores out" tell them not to despair because you saw a local entrepreneur selling meth up the street and his business seemed to be thriving.

These little nuggets are sure to create a lull in conversation (if not bring it to a swift conclusion) thereby providing you with an excellent opportunity to make your escape exit. If all else fails say your goodbyes and tell them you look forward to seeing them in five years after they've squeezed out a couple babies and run to the suburbs. I guarantee-you'll never have to worry again about being invited to another dinner party.

You're welcome. :)

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Speed limit in Munchkinville

Is this even possible?



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Socially conscious or Eco fashion?

What is up with this wilderness clothing trend? I understand the need for water resistant clothing when you are outdoors but when did carbon-neutral, 87% recycled content, organic pants become de rigueur?

I mean really, some people take it too far. There's a women on my train every morning who must own stock in REI. She is always dressed head to toe in North Face, Patagonia or Columbia. Is it really necessary to wear insect shield SPF 30 convertible pants, mixed terrain mountaineering boots and a moisture wicking, ventilated sombrero for your morning commute? Must you carry that ubiquitous water bottle strapped to your abrasion-resistant backpack? Does your morning commute engender the potential risk of dehydration? Might you run across a bear in the treacherous journey from your front door to your minivan?

What is the source of this fascination with outdoor apparel? Because to be honest most of the gruppies don't look like they spend much time outdoors. It seems to be more about eco-conscious posturing. I'm pretty sure that Blackberry they pull from their ventilated reinforced nylon expedition pack doesn't get signal on Mt. Kilimanjaro.

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Welcome!

So...I'm new to this blogging thing and thought I'd give it a try though I feel as though I am writing into a literary black hole of sorts.

Awhile back I began putting my experiences and observations as a single woman to paper. Scores of frustrating dating experiences began to codify. (Yes my babies, triple word score). I began writing these down and ended up with the beginnings of a book. But I digress...

To give you a little background, I am a licensed mental health professional currently working on "the dark side". Those of you in the field know exactly what the "dark side" is. The fact is I have happily sold-out, snitched, gone to the other side...whatever you want to call it. I've paid my dues. I've been hit, kicked, spat upon and cursed out. (What-you thought mentally illness somehow engendered good manners?). A girl has to eat. And frankly years of wading through others' horrific life experiences warrants an occupational sabbatical if not an extended trip to the loony bin yourself. Simply put-I love my field but I love myself more. I'm not a martyr. I want to help people but until our society monetarily recognizes the value of the mental health field I refuse to starve.

Hence my foray into the dark side. And I'll let you in on a little secret: the "dark side" isn't nearly as morally corrupt as you might think. It's those ivory tower institutions that you have to watch. You would be shocked at the goings on at some of the most prestigious psychiatric facilities. But that's for another time...

So...why did you title your blog "Hysterical Woman" you may be thinking... Without going into too much psychobabble, the early roots of personality disorders were based upon the concept of "hysteria". (I sure do seem to love using " don't I?). Hysteria was a female disorder thought to be caused by a wandering uterus. (Yep, totally true. Google it my babies. Have yourself a good laugh). The most popular cure for hysteria was pregnancy. (Yeah, riiiight).

Fortunately we are all progressive enough to now recognize the lunacy of this premise. But...the phenomena of the "hysterical woman" (there I go again) persists. Rather than rally against a clearly patriarchal bias against the female experience I've decided to adopt the cliché as my own. I embrace hysteria. It is my own. Let me show you how hysterical I can really be.

Join me on my journey into modern madness...the trip will be entertaining and the results possibly revolutionary.

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