Racism. The old fashioned kind.

I went to get a book for my friend’s son (a boy so beautiful he would blow up the blogosphere – but alas, his smart mama keeps him off the interweb). I try to get a book he will like and his parents won’t hate reading 1,000 times to him.
As I was perusing, I found this Thanksgiving book. I was drawn to it right away. Because of the way it was drawn.
None of that cultural sensitivity stuff from the newer books. Just good old fashioned stereotyping.
I grew up in the 70s and 80s. Everything that we called normal is now called hazing, bullying, sexual harassment, ADHD, cultural insensitivity and it’s evil twin – racism. Many 40+ olds like me are now in therapy or spending quality time in a bar reflecting and learning why none of that was normal. And it wasn’t normal or right. We were just too busy wearing shoulder pads to notice.
That’s why I was so surprised to see this book, published pretty recently.

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Look at these old school images.
Squanto and his pals actually have feathers on their heads – and mohawks – you know, cause their Injuns (which I now know is an offensive epithet and not a cute abbreviation. See, all that time at the bar helped). I’m obsessed with these pics. I can’t figure out why one of the pilgrims has a groovy Afro or why some of the pilgrims have hipster mustaches.

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The picture below brings me right back to elementary school. I’ve seen a version of this pic a million times. The pilgrims facing the cold, hard winter. Why don’t they just go into the warm wood cabins behind them? Duh. I should have been a pilgrim.

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Once they explain the “origins” of Thanksgiving, there’s a picture of a modern family enjoying the feast.

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I’m digging the addition of the African American grandparents – but where are the descendants of Squanto? Atleast 3 culturally insensitive jokes come to mind. I won’t write them. Cause I know what cultural insensitivity feels like, I’m an Injun too. Dot, not feather.
(I did not buy this book. I bought a Halloween book called Dem Bones instead. Much more politically correct )

Forever got a lot shorter all of a sudden

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My beloved made me a pb&j for lunch today. But I ate it on the train. It had to be done.

Know what I think about every single time I eat a pb&j sandwich?  The scene in St. Elmo’s Fire when Billy comes to see Wendy in her new apartment and asks her how it’s going.  She smiles and says that she woke up in the middle of the night last night and made herself a sandwich and …

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There’s something wrong with me right?  Or do you think about that too? 1985 was a good year for cheesy movies you can quote for the rest of your life.  I can rattle off a ton of quotes from that movie, “love is an illusion, but it’s the only illusion that counts.” How about when Jules turns to Billy and says,” you break my heart, but then again, you break everyone’s heart.”  Who needs Wikipedia? Not me.

Don’t even make me start singing Man in Motion, cause I will.

 

Wait, what?

As a blogger I get lots of “helpful” emails. You know, with suggestions on how, what and who to write about. It’s awesome. I also get the usual snarky comments. Those are awesome too. My favorite was an email telling me that I’m using the word awesome wrong. Awesome.
Anyway I’m open to all commentary. When a helpful reader sent me a clip of a New York Times article on the abuse of the em dash (-), I didn’t take offense – and I certainly didn’t stop using it – ahem.
But last week I got an email telling me to stop putting two spaces after a period. This helpful, anonymous reader informed me that I no longer have to follow that golden rule.
Wait. What?
She even sent me a helpful illustration.

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Apparently when I learned to type, on an actual typewriter in the dark ages known as the 80s, the rules were based on spacial issues – not right and wrong. Typewriter letters were in monospace (all letters get the same amount of room) and smarty party computer letters are in proportional space (different letters need different amounts of room). Basically, more letters fit within a given space. And because this reader obviously knows me, she sent me a picture to illustrate.

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So boom.
The rule is no longer needed. Did you all know this? Did I miss this announcement? Was there a tweet? The only people who use two spaces anymore are the same people who still leave voicemail messages. ME!
All those red marks from all those teachers that programmed me to leave two spaces after punctuation are non-existent.
Thanks for nothing Mrs. Manning. 2nd grade was almost unnecessary. Ok, got it. I’ll catch-up. My new world is about twerking, getting semi-nude to board a plane and Ebola – awesome.

I know you didn’t ask but…

Get this book.
It’s so much fun. Even though I probably won’t do all these techniques, it’s nice to know they are there. In my early 20s I would have totally used this book as an instructional. Now, in my 40s, I read it like fiction. Cat eyes and blush contouring. Sigh. I love it. I won’t do it, but I love it.
Anyway. Back to your day.

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S&M Skin Care

Exfoliating is life. We’ll, family is life – but for me, exfoliating comes close. I’m a pretty disloyal product person. I find something good, I fall in love, then there’s a general malaise where we drift apart – and then in the words of Jay-Z, I’m on to the next one. I cannot sustain a meaningful relationship with my beauty products. I’m not like that with make-up, I’ve committed to the same bronzer/blush for over 8 years now. It’s the one for me.

I know I’ve told you before, but I like a rough cleanser. I like a rough facial. I love me some chemical peeling action. If layers of skin could fall of by using this product, it’s the one for me. Ironically I don’t like a rough massage. The kind you have to medicate to recover from, I also don’t like rough-housing. Please don’t tackle me, shove me, or push me. I wouldn’t enjoy that. When my husband and I had just started dating, he once threw me into a big pile of garbage in NYC and started laughing hysterically. There had been a blizzard so it looked like a mound of fresh, clean snow. But he knew what was under there. Garbage! I didn’t talk to him for a week. Now that I’m writing this I’m getting angry again. My point is – my skin is more laid back then me.
Last week I splurged and bought a pricier cleaner than I would normally. But I couldn’t help myself. The back of it said,” Caution, may cause skin to tingle and flush. Stop using if you have sensitive skin.” Shhhhh you had me at Caution.

Here’s the product – Kate Somerville’s Exfolikate. A harsh cleanser with a sense of humor. I tried it. I’m in love. For now.

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Picture Imperfect

We finally had another book club meeting tonight. It’s been a long, bookless summer. Because why would I read a book if I’m not getting credit for it? Duh.
We read Let’s Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson. If you read my post yesterday you’d know that I straight up crammed the book in about 24 hrs. I’m so happy I did. It was LOL funny. How can you not love a book that waxes poetic about taxidermy, miscarriages, and blogging. You don’t think they belong together, but they do. Did I mention that the author curses more than a truck driver? (And can we change that expression? I’ve never heard a truck driver swear. Maybe it should be “she swears more than the Kardashians).

Instead of meeting at a member’s house, we were invited to The Artist’s Cellar. You’ve seen these right? You wine, you paint, it’s all good.
We had a blast. Babes with Books (BWB) rocked it. Here’s me and the beautiful woman who created BWB (I think. I mean I KNOW she’s beautiful but I’m guessing about the other part). We took a selfie. It was her idea. Or mine.

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We had adorable instructors named Cayla, Cameo and Jessica and the place was awesome. Booze, loud gals and detailed instructions – what could go wrong?!

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Here’s my masterpiece in the making.

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As always with this group, we talked about the book…oh…for a hot second. And then we talked about psychics, grandkids, medication and other miscellaneous items of urgency. A good time was had by all.

Here’s the painting we were supposed to draw:

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Here’s what I drew:

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You don’t see four trees you say? That’s called creative license! It doesn’t have anything to do with four trees merging into two blobs that I had to make into trees. Stop judging me.
We had a blast.

And here’s some pictures I took while I should have been painting.

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BWB!!

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Cramming.

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I feel like I’m 16 again. Or 17. Maybe 19.

I have to read this book before 7pm tomorrow night. No, it’s not for a class I’m taking. There’s no exam or final that I need to prep for. Just a fun book club meeting. A meeting in a wine and paint shop.

So really, this book will be like, the 3rd thing we pay attention to. In my mind it’ll be Wine, Paint, Book. Or maybe Paint, Wine, Book. It totally won’t be Book, Paint, Wine – I know that much for sure! But I still want to read it. It’s about a saucy girl’s childhood and it’s full of bad words and bad deeds. Aren’t you jealous of my book club. My book club is better than your book club.

So it’s not really like college. Or like being 16, 17, or 19 – since I didn’t have wine until I turned 30…ahem.

All my free time before and after work will go to this book. As soon as I’m done with this blog. And except the time I’ll spend watching my recorded shoes. And then ofcourse I need to go to bed by 10. But other than that – I’m all over this book.

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