Oy gevalt

So now that the weather here in Albuquerque is beautiful again. I've started walking as much as I can these days. I never understood why people actually flat out refuse to walk anywhere that is less than a mile away from them. Just think about how many fewer obese people America would have if everybody decided to walk the half mile to the convenience store or (in my case) work. Today was one of the first days in about four months give or take where I could walk comfortably to the coffee shop. I had forgotten how much walking forces you to look around you and soak up your surroundings. It also gives me a good excuse to opt out of the daily jog that I usually force myself to do (yes I hate intentional exercise I'm not afraid to admit it, shut up).

Plus since $4/gallon gas is coming our way, I'd like to save as much gas as humanly possible.



Moment of reflection and observation over.

Yesterday I came home to my apartment and there was a packet on the clip outside (you know that thing that apartments (especially gated ones) do: the monthly newsletters and announcements). I didn't really pay attention to them, I was just thankful that it wasn't yet another notice to pay my water bill. But this morning I woke up and went into my living room to watch a movie in order to make myself wake up since I gave up caffeine (Darjeeling Limited is a great film by the way, very quirky and somewhat pretentious, but thoroughly enjoyable), and while clearing off my futon I found one of the pieces of paper that was part of the packet that made my jaw drop and go "OH MY GOD."

Background story: a lot of people in my apartment have small dogs. There's a strict rule about picking dog poopy. Most of the tenants do, but of course there's always the dipshits that don't and therefore ruin many a person's lawn walking adventure.

Anyway, the piece of paper that I'm talking about said:
"Tattle-tails! If you see a violator of our strict pick-up pet policy, please report it to us." Followed by little blanks for the violator's name, a description of the pet and the location where the offense took place.

1984 anybody? Jesus Christ in a handbasket of gardenias. I want to smack myself and the people who drew this ridiculous thing up. I wish I had a scanner so I could show this truly unbelievable piece of paper.

The Day I Became an Anarchist

I used to think Anarchy was idle dreams, a lazy thinker's paradise. For the past six months I've been good friends with two men. Every weekend we get together and drink a few 40 ozs of Mickeys and drunkenly launch into intellectual discussions.


Most of these discussion inevitably veered towards today's society, government and the social infrastructure. In nearly all of these discussions my two friends have argued till they were blue in the face the benefits of Anarchy in place of the government we have today. And in all their efforts I stonewalled them and offered solutions for change in terms of today's government. I'm not going to lie, I am in love with the idea of the democracy the founding fathers gave us. But it doesn't take a rocket scientist to realize that today's democracy is not even a shadow of what our forefathers gave us.

For the past three years I have been pursuing the hope of fixing our failing democracy. I have tried to put my whole heart in the support of a democratic, restructured government. I have tried to 'rock the vote.' But every time a candidate comes on the television, all I can think of is how sick and tired I am. Sick and tired of what? Sick and tired of watching people I don't know run my country, my state, put laws on my body. And I am given a choice as to what to 'settle' for in terms of what kind of laws I want. And right now I am living in the ultimate fear that if anyone but Obama and Hillary get elected, I will lose every single right to my body. That is a godawful fear, and it angers me that my own government makes me feel this fear. I have spoken about my ideals and my beliefs in terms of the direction of government and society to a few individuals, and those individuals have said: "you are an Anarchist."

But still I hung on to the hope of a good, fully cooperative government in the future, and I fought to achieve it. But then it happened. I had my thunderbolt.

It happened on a trip through Texas. I got stopped in Kauffman county outside of Dallas, Texas. I was going the same speed as the other cars around me, but I was the one who got stopped. Was I driving over the speed limit? Yes. Was I driving recklessly? No. Four years of driving without a collision with another moving car shows I know how to handle a vehicle. As I was sitting there while the state trooper was writing my ticket, I sat there thinking about how fucked I was. I work a retail job at $7.15 an hour, I pay over half my income to rent, the other half to my bills. How was I supposed to pay a huge ticket? Then it hit me: this ticket is a product of the system of today.
That state trooper did not stop me because I was a risk to other drivers in terms of my speeding. He stopped me to meet the quota. He stopped me to hand me a ticket that I couldn't afford to pull more money out of me to feed the government. I was not given the trust that I deserve from my government to travel freely, in my eyes, the government has extorted money from me. I asked the state trooper how to handle this ticket in terms of court appearances since I lived in a different state. He had no answers.
What is this? I knew that if I voiced my dissent and displeasure, he would most likely ask me to step out of the car and search my vehicle (which was packed with clothes and my personal belongings). So I had to sit there and take it. That's what hundreds of people do every day in situations like these: they sit there and take it. Like a communal, government sanctioned financial rape. The people are supposed to have trust in our government, namely our police officials. This is akin to asking a victim to trust her assailant. Unless the Stockholm syndrome is rampant, this is depravity--pure and simple. Who can honestly sit here and say "I trust my police squad and my government and my city system. I trust them to treat me fairly and consider my situations."
My previous resistance to Anarchy was due to the fact that I did not believe it would fix the problems with today's world. But while sitting there in my car waiting for my ticket, I came to realize that it isn't supposed to be a solution for today's world. But tomorrow's world. I was thinking in the wrong terms. I am an anarchist because I believe in communal trust. I am an anarchist because I believe the police officer should have stopped me if I was a danger to others. But I also believe that society should raise their proteges so that they are NOT a danger to others. I believe in communities, trust, and communication. Do I believe that Anarchy is possible in today's world? No. The next generation? No. But through the generations, and how we build up our future with our children, it could be possible. And at least the collective out there can focus on providing an alternate view for others who are sick of the system. It took me this long to realize the true nature of my beliefs, and I still have a lot to learn. But it's a breath of fresh air to finally see clearly just what I believe and why I believe it. And it is something for which I shall fervently strive.

Thank you Chris, David and Brian for making me see the face of my dreams that I ignored for so long.

--Le Femme

Found it!

My favorite things in the world are found objects. I'm not talking about the five dollar bill you find on the side of the street every once in a blue moon. That's inconsequential. I'm talking about the priceless pieces of paper or pictures that you randomly come across.

In my line of work I buy back books from customers. More often than not when I'm going through the books I come across old pictures, shopping lists, random notes, etc. It coincides with my fierce love of picking up hubcaps and random construction work objects (which I'm sure is moderately illegal in these parts). Maybe I'm a freak, maybe I'm a pack rat or perhaps eccentric--whatever, I make no apologies.

So it's the voyeur in me that is fascinated with other people's scraps of their lives. My most treasured 'find' is what I found in an old army jacket that I tried on in a thrift store. It was a note for a Marine to report to therapy at Camp Pendelton for 'neuropsychiatric analysis.' The date was July 9, 1974, which ties in with the end years of the Vietnam war. It was folded up into a neat little square half the length of my pinkie and it managed to stay in that camouflage jacket until it ended up in a thrift store in 2006. I ended up not getting the jacket, but I took the paper home and tucked it away with all my other strange found objects.

Human beings always have strange fascinations with voyeurism. It's amazing how other people's little remainders can make an impact or work their way into other's lives. There are a select number of websites and books dedicated to the documentation of these little scraps of anonymity. To name the ones with the largest cult followings: PostSecret (a personal favorite of mine), Found Magazine, and Milk Eggs Vodka.

A new habit that I've formed has been inspired by Post Secret. Every time I check out a library book (which is quite often.....), I try to leave a little piece of myself in it when I turn it back in. Little anonymous secrets in me that I'm terrified to tell anyone else. I do this in the hope that I can speak to someone the way the little found objects I've come across over the years have affected me.

Oh my GOD

Thanks to a co-worker and friend of mine, I have find my new best friend on the web:

Library Thing

holy shit, I love this. I love this.

I'm a bibliophile at heart, an ex-library shelver and nothing can top this.

But anyway. Suharto died today. This seems to be the season of monumental bastards passing away. In someways when I read this article that was posted on bbc today I was reminded of Vladimir Putin. When Putin was named Time's person of the year, I initially almost shit my pants in disbelief. But once I read the introductory article explaining just why they named him person of the year, I began to understand, and now I agree. Putin has taken Russia from the dregs of global disarray and taken it to a whole new level. Suharto did that. Suharto was a dictator, and he was a bastard, but the economy thrived, and the country was stable. So maybe his firm hand did do some good. But that's not to equate Putin with Suharto. Putin is no dictator, and it's going to be interesting to see who can take Russia from the point that Putin is leaving it at. Here's to Russia, and here's to the death of a dictator.

In the tradition of posting LolCat pictures, here's my take on children:

I Roll!

Quick update.

Yes, that is a terrible picture of me and a great picture of Duane fucking Peters from U.S. Bombs. They played in some western saloon next to the Launchpad here in Albuquerque, New Mexico. There were about thirty people at the show, give or take. I smuggled in a bottle of peppermint schnapps (so that's what boobs are for.....) and was therefore sufficiently drunk for U.S. Bombs. Orange and The Johns opened up for USB. I had heard the Oranges before, but frankly they're not my cup of tea. Good music, just not my style, and their set was somewhat lacking--it probably would have been better with a bigger crowd. The Johns put on a great show, I was definitely impressed. They were more rock n' roll in music and straight up punk in style.

U.S. Bombs made me lose my shit, to put it frankly. I honestly never thought I'd be able to see them live. I'd been listening to them since I was 13 years old, six years, SIX YEARS! and now victory is mine. It felt so good to be able to represent Bomb City at a U.S. Bombs show. The only problem I had was when I got pulled up on stage, then Duane called the other girls in the audience onto the stage. The guitarist then said "Boys, all you have to do is get a hard on." Excuse me? I was about to step off the stage when an asshole pulled on my skirt and nearly pulled it all down. I kicked him in the face and stage dived off in order to put in a few punches. At least I made my exit. But that display of blatant misogyny almost ruined the whole show for me.

That's the aspect about punk that pisses me off. The fact that girls are still not taken seriously at a punk show. You want to pull the girls on stage? Fine with me. It's when someone in the band says "all you have to do is get a hard on." This happens to me every single time I go to a good punk show. It's seriously got to change. And I will be throwing punches and elbows and kicking whatever misogynist bastard is there in the face (like I did at U.S. Bombs) until it does.

But all in all, it was a great show, and I got to meet Duane Peters. The man is awesome. A champion skater, a great frontman and just an overall good person to see up on stage. And I walked away with a killer shirt and a nice 7". The night was not wasted.

Vinyl hearts.

In a string of events that I will not elaborate on....I acquired another record player this summer and I love it. Especially since I've been hitting the thrift stores and getting a bunch of new vinyls. I nearly shit my pants yesterday when I found the ska gods, Catch-22's Keasbey Nights in the $1 bin. I love you America. Another man's trash truly is another woman's treasure (just ask me about my strange fetish concerning hubcaps on the side of the road).

Bring it on vinyl. Bring it.



....as long as nobody ridicules me for my love of Roberta Flack....fuck off.

So Bobby Fischer is dead.....

Boo-fucking hoo. I don't mean to harp on anyone's death, but you know what? What did this man really offer society? Sure, he put chess on the map, revolutionized it, etc., etc. I don't care. You can be a genius, but really, there's no point in it if you don't offer something positive to the world. I could look at Fischer in a more positive light but for one glaring thing: He was an anti-Semite.

Fischer positively lauded the incident of 9/11 and publicly proclaimed that he wished America to become a military state so that the synagogues would fall and the Jews would once again be swallowed up by a holocaust. Fuck you Fischer. Fuck you. If you didn't catch the New York Times feature they did on him, here's a link to a good 2002 article that highlights his genius and his depravity: click me bitch.

Am I glad he's dead? No. In fact I thought he died a long time ago. But come on, what's with the heaps of praise now when he's dead and gone when everyone else was busy raising eyebrows and scooting away from him when he was alive. It is a fear of mine that he will be remembered as a 'decent man' posthumously when in fact he was anything but. Bobby Fischer was a human tragedy in the matter that he was a genius. He could have given so much to the world in junction with chess. Instead he only spread the hatred and bias that fuels much of society's problems today.

Farewell Fischer.


This is for the ladies:

If your skin didn't already crawl at the thought of extra estrogen and testosterone pumped in you as birth control....it should be. Why? Then read.

I hated birth control with a passion. Hated hated hated hated hated it. And that article only makes me fume a bit more. Science vs. Mother Nature is always a tricky thing. There's so many methods of birth control, and none are infallible. But let me tell you something, I don't trust the patch. I didn't trust it when it came out, and I sure as hell don't trust it after reading that article. It's unnatural I tell you. UNNATURAL.

I was on oral contraceptives (organon mircette) for about 3 1/2 years and let me tell you, that level of hormones pumped into my teenage (read...teenage angst) body paired with the mental problems I inherited from my maternal side of the family (thank you and FUCK you genetics) led to a bumpy ride for 3 1/2 years. I'll never forget when I went in for my IUD consultation this past October, when the doctor looked over my medical record and history along with my oral contraceptives she looked at me and said: "who the hell gave you extra hormones?" This copper thing that's sitting in my uterus, which was made possible only thanks to my insurance's last dying gasp, has been a godsend. I am mentally sane AND I am absolutely sterile. Thank you thank you thank you Blue Cross.

My rant is pointless, except for the point that most birth control that women take only lead to even more problems. Why? Because science honestly hasn't tackled the problem of making a better pill AND the medical industry has not done its best to aid women in acquiring more effective and AFFORDABLE methods of birth control. Health wise, women can face so many potential dangers of oral contraceptives, Depro Provera and the patch. Oral contraceptives depend heavily on exact times for taking dosages and if not taken correctly can lead to pregnancy. I'm not even going to list the effect it has on weight, and an already mentally unstable person's mindset.

Come on science, quit trying to make rats and cats glow in the dark and try to give women a 100% safe method of birth control. AAAGH.

In a nutshell, this is how I felt the entire time I was taking oral contraceptives:


Argh. It makes me angry.

Democracy in the U.A.E. and Retail anger

I hope you sang the title of that blog to the tune of the Sex Pistol's 'Anarchy in the U.K.'



Har har har.

Anyway. Democracy in the U.A.E. has one thing in common with 'Anarchy in the U.K.':
It ain't never going to happen. Simple as that.



Yet check out this article that I boosted from cnn.com today.

How fitting that Bush makes his speech in a hotel that rents suites that have a nightly rate that is nearly three times the rent of my apartment. How fitting that he speaks of the values of Democracy in a monarchical society. Fitting that he says: ""You cannot expect people to believe in the promise of a better future when they are jailed for peacefully petitioning their government," Bush said. "And you cannot stand up a modern, confident nation when you do not allow people to voice their legitimate criticisms." while keeping a straight face. This is the man who values his alliance with Russia so highly.

Fuck you Bush. The only Bush I trust is my own. Ten more months with you then I can kiss the rights to my own body hello again.

But now to my rant.

You know what makes me angry?

Plastic bags and fast food.

A) Plastic bags. They're made of oil. The world is running out of oil. The world is vastly polluted by non-biodegradable objects. Plastic bags are not biodegradable. Wouldn't it therefore make sense to cut down our use on plastic bags.....just perhaps? I've been thinking about this for a quite a while now, and it was funny that I happened to come across Americablog.com's Chris in Paris' short snippet that you can read by clicking here.

It really is almost second nature these days to take the plastic bags that are given to us in retail. But as someone who works in retail, I can also say that some people get downright pissy if you do not serve them their plastic bags. I believe in personal activism. Proselytizing about saving the environment is not particularly the best way to go about actually making a difference--it only makes you look like the crazy tree hugger that nobody listens to. Action teamed with silence (unless asked) is a way to make a difference. So that's what I do. If an item can be easily carried out to a car with one hand, I usually hand it to the customer without a bag. Yet I am constantly shocked at the amount of people that, after I hand them their purchase, look at me with shocked eyed and say "can I have a bag, please?" and I swear to fucking god I hear a bit of indignant rage in their voice at times. Really? What's the difference between carrying a singular CD in your hand versus having it swing in a voluminous white plastic bag?

Here is a list of the regular purchases made by my customers:
1. Two rental movies.
2. One magazine and/or newspaper.
3. One CD and/or two used/new DVD.

These are items you can usually care out with your own hands. Or for women, tuck them in your purse and go. Putting one rental movie that's about 5"x5" in a bag of nearly a gallon's volume is ridiculous. It's common sense. The problem with prolific plastic bags is the OCD of Americans. They believe in compartmentalization, in dividing items up into places where they can be easily contained. And in other words, retail has given them so many plastic bags that--like a fat kid when his mother says 'no more cake, dear,'--they're shocked when they do not come with the package.

Here's a good website that can explain, better than I can, the benefits of using reusable bags in shopping and the havoc that plastic bags cause in the world today: Reusablebags.com

Phase two: Fast food

Fast food makes me want to vomit. I quit eating fast food and drinking soda when I was in 8th grade. I went from being a 200 pound 13-year-old girl to a run of the mill angry 14 year old of an average weight. That says a lot.

I was reminded today of how much I hate fast food when my co-worker brought Wendy's back to the break room. After auditing my drawer and stepping into the break room to put on my jacket and excavate my keys from my (admittedly) too big purse I heard a squeal from him. Yes. A squeal from a fully grown, plainly heterosexual male. I went over to the table and in front of him was his unwrapped Wendy's burger, and next to it was a fucking....red...lump...that most definitely was not ketchup. My co-worker is the kind of person who would--and has--picked up a sandwich off a floor and eaten it with out brushing the dirt off first. Yet this same man promptly dumped his entire hamburger into the trash and said "I wasted$1.50 on this!"

Right.

And I fully blame the cardboard taste and mass produced nature of fast food for the fat people in America. And fat people in turn gives us bad drivers. Yes, obese people make bad drivers. Why? Because they are obese and upset about it and they have heavy machinery to show it. Don't believe me? Then you ain't from the U.S.A. Think about it.


bowling ball? Nah. He got that hamburger that Bryan threw away.