Good... And Good for You

My wobbly, little, old-man dog slipped and started falling backwards down my basement stairs, but, LIKE A TRUE AMERICAN HERO, I caught him by the turtleneck and pulled him to safety. So go ahead and blame me for the fact that you don't have fur and always having to wear a sweater. Look at me as resentfully as you want Ziggy! Because that ridiculous fashion just saved your life.

um... So apparently the world is FOR SURE supposed to end on September 23rd. For. Sure. Like astrologists and crazy, religious cult leaders all agree and have ambiguous proof. And all I'm saying is that if the world ends before the new Star Wars comes out, I'm gonna refuse to get raptured.

This morning, I ran the Dam Train Race down in Heber, Utah. As a seasoned fun-runner, let me break down the logistics of a run like this... For this particular race, you wake up earlier than any human ever should, grab a banana and a red bull and drive to your friend's house where you knock on her door for five solid minutes and then, when she doesn't answer, you sit in your car and think about your life choices and consider just driving home and going back to sleep. Then you remember that you were going to post a picture of your glorious finish on Instagram, so you call her until she wakes up and then you sit on the floor of her living room while she puts on some running shoes and grabs a water bottle. Then you both drive to the Historic Heber Valley Railroad where you get out of your car and rethink all of your life choices again as you wait in line for a porta-potty. THEN you ride the Heber Creeper to the dam at Deer Creek Reservoir and you almost fall as...

As someone with irrational trust and intimacy issues, reading comment threads like the screenshot below in response to certain tapes of certain presidential candidates describing/confessing to/bragging about certain horrific behavior, is my worst nightmare... Essentially these people are saying that 75% of men talk about how they've groping women, and the other 25% think it. Or perhaps- to be more forgiving- maybe they're saying that 75% of men talk about women using degrading, predatory language and the other 25% think it. Because that's just how men are. So people shouldn't be so offended. Again, it's my worst (relationship) nightmare that THAT IS TRUE. So thanks for that, social media world.

I wish the following story reflected better on me. Well, I met a homophobe the other day. And I'm telling you this because I haven't had an interaction with an overt, unapologetic homophobe since I was 13 years old.* THAT is how sheltered my life is, you guys. I so rarely have to deal with in-my-face ignorance that I tend to think it doesn't really exist (except in presidential campaigns (zing!)). I mean, I know that all those "-isms" exist, but in my circumstance, I see them in subtle undertones. I see them in patronizing, throw away comments in passing. I'm used to dealing with the -isms that are apparent in the unsaid. You know, the covert prejudice that people can deny and then tell me I'm crazy and over-sensitive. Those are the interactions I'm used to. I'm not going to lie, I didn't know how to react to my homophobe. So now I'm going to recreate our conversation for you. I was making polite conversation with this guy at a ...

My rant, supported by anectdotal evidence. As an older, single lady, my interactions with all men are a little bit awkward. Because no matter my intentions, I'm "on the market" a.k.a. "open for business." So it doesn't matter if the guy I'm talking to is old or young or married or single or all of the above. If I'm talking and joking around, the guy might think I'm flirting with him, other third-parties might assume we're flirting, or I might actually be flirting. The world will never know. For example, the other night I went to a big group outdoor movie party thrown by one of my friends. I was standing around the snack table with a frenemy and a couple of people I didn't know and started joking around with one of the guys and one of the girls. Then a girl came up and kissed the guy we were talking to and we all kind of dispersed. As we walked away my frenemy was like, "So you didn't notice his wedding ring, did you?" A ...

My mom found an old vhs tape of my old 1992 dance recital last week and we sat down as a family and watched my sister and me dance through our awkward preadolescence. The tape filled my mom with nostalgia. The tape filled my young niece with glee. The tape filled my sister with shame. The tape filled me to the brim with all three emotions because, seriously guys, I was 11 years old. I'd just starting to have my growth spurt, and I was not good. Like, embarrassingly not good. But I was so blissfully unaware of how not good I was and you could just see how much I  loved dancing. I watched myself spazz out in front of an audience with my giant, BEAMING, brace-faced smile, and I'm just so glad that I'm not 11 years old anymore. Okay. But seriously folks, my perfectionist sister was mortified. " Why did you let us do that?" she asked my mom. "We were so bad! And we, like, worked so hard at it! Why weren't we better ??" My sister watches a lot o...

uggh. over a 24 hour period, i have STUPIDLY read... this:  https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/the-intersect/wp/2016/02/17/in-the-battle-of-internet-mobs-vs-the-law-the-internet-mobs-have-won/ and this:  https://www.yahoo.com/beauty/14-women-were-brutally-attacked-140600254.html and i spent way too much time reading this:  https://www.instagram.com/byefelipe/ oh! and i also read this:  http://www.theguardian.com/global-development/2016/feb/14/love-conquers-all-child-brides-sweetheart-spouse-ashley-judd?platform=hootsuite ... and now i feel overwhelmed and overloaded. and angry. and the kind of sad that stems from not being able to be helpful in any way. and asexual. there's probably a word in german that encompasses all of that.