so besides finding out that posts about boobs means lotsa blog traffic (oh, that den of sin called the internets!) and forgetting to demand that you all go see doubt (go. now. i command you!) because of my love/crush/obsession with weepy streepy – i mean comeon! just look at these faces:

meryl_streep

i have to update you on another important matter. that is: showing my ass atop grouse mountain today while skiing. okay, i exaggerate. but here is what unfolded. i have decided to use the sage voice of t-bone for this because i imagine that skiing with me is equivalent to a root canal and so this is a tribute to his patience, love, and misguided attempts to turn me into a skier. poor t-bone.

here goes (remember we are inside the wise and courageous mind of my husband – these thoughts cannot be attributed to the thoughtful spaz – moi- because they are simply too logical. and guy-y):

10:30am – if i have to show her one more time how to properly carry her skis, i might injure myself. however, if i have to wait any longer for her, i might kill her. what he actually says: “comin’?”

10:31am – flip! just put them together like i told you! hehe. i just said flip like bret does on flight of the conchords. i’m funny.

10:35am – alright. she managed to get her spastic ass into the gondola. we might actually ski/snowboard today. just smile. then busy myself with my phone. she usually gets bored of that pretty quick.

10:43am – “let’s take this run, k?” now i have to wait a century until she gets her skis on. “ready?”

10:47am – she still doesn’t have them on. now she’s complaining. maybe next time i’ll come alone. i remember that being fun. before i was married…

10: 49am – she’s still complaining – “what? no you didn’t. really. i’m sure you didn’t split your pants. it just sounded that way. they’re fine. ski ahead and i’ll check”

10:50am – oh yeah. those are split. hehe. that’s funny. no laughing, she already wants to go home. i can see it. damage control. damage control! god. i hope she doesn’t cry.

10:51am – “you can’t even see it. really. the insulatey material is the same colour. really. now let’s go. wait – your boot is open – close it”

10:52am – oh shit. she just split them more. maybe she didn’t hear that.  *holds breath*

so anyhoo. two hours later we get down to the bottom (after i fell about a million times on my newly exposed ass because apparently “fresh powder” means jacks falls on said ass. a lot) and i realize that yes, my ass was hanging out and it was a lot worse than t-bone told me. bless his heart though. cause he helped. and cause i didn’t cry. and i only made everything his fault for about 45 minutes.

so alls well that ends well.

i guess.

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gotmilkso thanks to work i used to do on public nudity i still know folks in the nudy petudy business. and that has meant, strangely, that my new year has been filled with well…boobies. and lots of ’em. lemmie ‘splain.

a sage and mentor of the naturist movement whom i know, and once had a clothed interview audience with, is a defiant advocate for the right to breastfeed in public. in particular, his most recent cause is for facebook to stop removing breastfeeding photos arbitrarily that someone in the faceless realm of facebook censorship – is it you mark zuckerburg? – considers “vaguely pornographic.” apparently facebook has a problem with nipples. who knew? well. maybe some of you did. you dirty beasts.

anyhoo.

so this leads me to the question – which is not what you are thinking and sorry P. that i might not be going in the intended direction – but when is a child too old to breastfeed? or wait. is that the question? the boob fire has been lit under me and now it just needs to be discussed dammit. call it jacks’ war on nipples. or nipplepalooza. or nipplefest. just make sure there are nipples.

i just watched a “newsmagazine” about this topic and they took this issue to heart showing four-year-olds and eight-year-olds nursing. of course this causes uproar. disgust. outrage. but why? why can’t women catch a break? which brings us to the gendered nature of tits (doesn’t it?). my next research project. (just kidding. well. maybe). but really, the women interviewed make the helpful and important distinction – which is the direction i believe P. is going in – which is a legitimate, feminist point about the right of women to bare their breasts in the “service” of feeding their children the “natural” way. but as always, this fight turns into something else. the right for women to connect with their bodies and their children in “natural” ways. which essentializes. and we don’t like that, do we dear bloggy friends?

my frustration is focused on the dichotomy which is inevitably created between the “naturalness” of the naked human body, especially women’s bodies (we are closer to nature, dontcha know? all godless-like and such. borf) and the seemingly un-naturalness of sexuality. or the apparent division between the two. i mean i get it. i studied naturists for long enough to know that the only way you make yourself legitimate as a naked person in public is by saying that it’s “natural” and not “sexual,”  thus creating the bind that these women find themselves in. the argument goes something like this: i should be able to post my booby my pics on facebook because i am doing a natural motherly thing feeding them (the age thing is still the wildcard here) and its not sexual because i am naturally made to feed kids. so it’s not sexual to show pics of my breasts when it is in the service of feeding my kids. k, all good. ‘cept for the fact that this argument requires you not only to make the relevant distinction between boobs for milk and boobs for sex (see above pic), but also requires women to turn themselves effectively into the “natural” baby-milking machine called mother. it requires a reliance on stereotypes of nurturing women and their proper role as caregiver. maybe this is just the eggnog talking, but it is a double-edged sword. not the nursing per se. but the lengths women go to legitimate the naturalness of boob-showing as a function of motherhood.

now, i don’t want anyone to get me wrong. i am an absolute, no question, fervent advocate of breastfeeding. in public. in private. in those cute little rooms in the mall that are made for moms that i wish i could go into without seeming creepy. but we women have enough to deal with without being the goddesses of milk. let’s advocate showing our tits for tits sake. let’s nipple it up. and someone pass the bottle.

epilogue: while i introduced the notion of older-age breastfeeding, i didn’t really address it. peruse the official petition to facebook about breastfeeding not being obscene and P.’s site for the banned facebook photos. tell me what you think about boobs. and eight-year-olds. cause this is important to the earth’s planetary rotation.

swears.

skinny-fat-phobiai stole the title for this post from a post i did about a year ago at this time because i think it is awesome to cite myself and such. in a reflective (reflexive?) move, i am going to flirt with blogging more. of course, i say that at the tail end of a christmas vacation going a bit stale, hence the question mark. i can only produce  so much and with the teaching and the finishing of the dissertation, i might be busier than i think (that was a question. i think). other things i am currently doing that are bonkers (and possibly the result of the massive amount i have eaten over the past 2 weeks. well, more than that. but stop monitoring me forgodsake!):

  1. twittering. well. i haven’t twittered yet. but i have signed up (under the username beefjacky) and i’m gonna. just.you.wait.
  2. sending xmas presents AFTER xmas. sorry ma, pa, and well…everyone else.
  3. watching many, many hours of corner gas. that’s t-bone’s fault. saskatchewan-lovin’ bastard that he is.
  4. not exercising. this doesn’t sound badass but it is. i get a little squirrely when i don’t exercise. like all coopy. and jack nicholson-y in the shining.

but anyhoo. in service of upping the blog ante, i am going to talk about my new favourite topic. which of course is fat. which means it isn’t really a departure. but i have already done a bunch of bonkers things (see above) and i gotta ease into blogging more (which is the goal) and what this “new blog” will look like (probably just more stuff about how much jacks loves jacks. another favourite topic).

i think in the liminal days between vacation and real life/work people take stock of all that they have overdone, be it eating, spending money, or spending time with relatives who make you feel good about yourself (if you were brought up in some kind of brady bunch scenario) or bad about yourself (if you are like everybody else). i’ve never had family members say anything about my weight but i come from a long line of people who pay attention. and then talk about what they noticed. not gossips per say. just really observant folk. i say all this because i have been thinking a lot about the shame associated with fatness. even oprah will be talking about her embarassment over her (re)weight gain in upcoming january shows. and it makes me sad. how hard it is for women to be in their own skin.

i often think back to how when i gained 30 pounds because of the dreaded freshman fifteen (which doubled for me probably because i have never been able to do math). and how no one mentioned it. how people must have been talking about it behind my back, but no one broached it, unless i did first. okay, so 30lbs isn’t that much you say. but it was noticeable. and i wonder why no one said anything. fatness is a peculiarly gendered phenomenon. where women are encouraged to notice weight on one another. yet not speak of it for fear of causing someone shame. i am not trying to say that someone should have talked to me and “saved” me from my weight gain. but i kinda felt like i had no one to talk to about it. like i was differently embodied (than i had been), with no where to turn. i managed to internalize notions of disgust and sheer intolerance for my extra 30 pounds, considering the kind of fat phobic culture that surrounded me (and by this, i mean the kind of fat phobic culture i think we are all complicitous in and aware of without necessary knowing the harm it causes. and the bodies it punishes). my point is, women – in their complex cooperative-but-competitive relation – support one another until it comes to weight. then it’s every woman for herself. or the unspoken self-esteem-crushing complicity of categorizing our flaws for one another. damaging ourselves for the purposes of relatability. i did it for years. and now that causes me shame.

we have a hard time acknowleding fat. talking about it like it really matters. like it really affects our lives. maybe it is inappropriate for a “thin woman” (so many problems with this determination, not least its relativity) to speak about fat like it matters. maybe that is why it remains unspoken. like if we don’t talk openly about fat oppression, we just get to live in privileged silence. silence that breeds silence to your face. and rebuke behind your back.

so let’s talk fat. whaddoyou gotta say?

bigsisterlast year at this time i was doing about the same thing – thinking through what i hoped a new year could/would bring. in a microcosmic example of history repeating itself, i want to talk about the same thing again. i waxed on about how adding something to my life, rather than making the usual i need to change/fix/remake myself resolutions, had really changed my life for the better. had given me something shiny and new. and in a way that getting “fitter” or not eating chocolate could never do. two years after i made the resolution to volunteer i am sitting in the same excited state. waiting to see what will come. what kind of newness and joy awaits me on the other side of tomorrow.

for a year and a half after i made the resolution the first time to volunteer with big sisters of BC lower mainland i spent quality time with a young woman who became my little sister about five months after i wrote the post linked above. i got to know her creative spirit, her joking manner, the way she knew i was a spaz and giggled when i recounted my geriatric falling in the shower episode (and dragging the curtain and curtain rod down with me when i managed to wedged myself between the toilet and the tub upon landing). she brought a lot to my life. and most importantly, stuff i didn’t even know was missing. we were matched for more than the required time commitment (one year) and recently decided to opt for a more informal friendship as our recent attempts to get together formally (the time commitment per week being 2-4 hours), with her now in high school and me writing a dissertation, were failing more often than not.

being part of C.’s life was an opportunity that gave me a lot of happiness. i thought i would never find the “right” volunteering opportunity. never quite meet the requirements or be driven enough to fulfill all the hoops volunteering agencies rightly put people through to demonstrate their commitment. but i did it. and i am still a bit in awe. not only of the drive i felt after i went to the first orientation meeting or the determination i felt getting my criminal record check and the honesty that kinda poured out in my meetings with the big sister’s counselor that matched us. big sisters itself is an amazing organization and the counselors are fantastic – always making you feel supported and appreciated. i am also in awe of the many women (and men) that do this kind of volunteering and make lasting differences in the lives of youth. and all the children and parents out there who are equally committed to having their children benefit from someone else in their lives.

anyhoo – before this sounds like any more of a commercial – i just want to let you in on why i am so excited this new year. i am sitting on this side of another little sister in my future. another little girl who is excited about having someone spend quality time with them. to make them feel important. special. and cared for. while i do have other personal goals this new year, the one i am proudest of, and most excited for, is the new little girl who will enter my life in 2009 and help me realize that we all have more to offer than we think. are better than we know. and have more to learn from little women than we could ever imagine possible.

as an epilogue to this post i want to say that if anyone is thinking about becoming a big sister i would *love* to talk more about my experiences or answer any questions. i know i had a lot of questions about whether or not i could make the time, what the matching process was like, what kind of stuff we would do together, and the list goes on. i know there are lots of little girls out there who need big sisters and i know that the women i know are fabulous so let me try to convince you to do it if you are interested!

also, tell me your resolutions. now.

badsanta2here is a christmas tale from the jacks family christmas storage vault. like all jacks’ tales, this one is a cautionary tale involving christmas cheer, a full bladder, and an unbruisable ass.

i hope you kids enjoy.

twas five nights before christmas and all through the newly purchased house of friends

everyone was drunk, like skunks or elves who had the bends

the chocolate fountain was flowing

and people were dipping even body parts that were showing

the house-owning couples’ relatives were trying to sleep

while jack’s-invented games were making them weep

t-bone was sucking candy canes and dipping brie in the fountain

i was drinking mulled and red wine like i was celebrating a climb up a very tall mountain

when i felt something persistently pressing on my ass-flattering jeans

i realized quite quickly that i had to find the means

to relieve my bladder

cause this was quite a serious matter

i scoped out the bathroom scenario to see if it was full

and upon deciding it was clear (despite the fact that the door was closed), i felt the pull

to go quickly and burst open the door

only to find my ass thumping along the floor

for alas, i had opened the door to the basement

and had sailed along my ass into quite a kafuffled placement

skinning my knuckle

and flapping at my buckle

but i did proclaim as i picked my sodden self up

“i seriously gotta piss over here, can someone get me a cup?”

and fortunately, someone else said: “Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Goodnight”

i think it was santa

(the last part about santa didn’t really happen but the rest is for true. for reals).

eggnog2it’s true. i should be doing ANYTHING else right now besides blogging. there is a tree to put up, an apartment to clean, publications to write, relatives to call, cats to pet. but goddamit, what about time for jacks? i just got back from a whirlwind trip around holland (and belgium) to visit family (i have an aunt who resembles zsa zsa  in more ways that one who celebrated her 95th birthday – said birthday was celebrated in.a.castle. yeah, that’s right. holland has castles. who knew? and more importantly, how awesome is it to go to a party and then sleep in a castle. oh, and then go to another castle the next day for my cousin’s wedding reception. yup. two castles. two days. two parties. two different parts of holland. i barely survived the jetlag. i tell you this not to brag – because do people really get jealous of jacks randomly sleeping in castles? i think not. but rather to share my incredulity with you. dutch castles. things that make you go hmmm). anyhoo – trip was fun – family heavy which was just what i wanted. i got to celebrate sinterklaas day there which is sorta like christmas here – presents for kids, etc. – while christmas – the 25th – is celebrated more like a religious holiday without gifts. if you are looking for a trippy holiday though – sinterklaas day is one to check out – particularly the part about zwarte (translated as black) pete (or piet in dutch). can anyone say unselfconscious blackface? yowza. but in other, only tangentially related news, it seems that i am in blogging arrears and dr. beth (whose blog currently has snow! yay!) has sent me another meme so i must get to it because it makes me feel important.

basically i have to do a bunch of fancy blog-related things that i am too lazy to figure out at the moment and i am distracted by t-bone filling up my eggnog bath (not really) so i will just write 6 random things about myself and ask you, dear readers to do the same in the comments. here goes:

  1. my nickname when i was six was popcorn head. i might have already talked about this and the way my mother cut and permed my hair like a geriatric’s, but who doesn’t want to revisit that pain over and over again? i know i do.
  2. i currently desperately want to write a short story. i thought i wanted to write a novel but now that just seems too ambitious what with the dissertation and all.
  3. i am currently sporting my natural haircolour which i haven’t seen since roughly 1995.
  4. i was born with three holes in my heart which were repaired by way of open-heart surgery when i was three. it didn’t strike me that i had actual holes in my heart until i was about 9 years old and my friend (susanne, if you read this blog, just know that i am outing out) asked me if i had any trouble with my feelings – you know, like love, because the carebears were advising us at that time in the late 1980s that without our hearts we were all just…i dunno mired in the land without feelings. fucking profound susie q. i must say.
  5. i got married when i was 25. i know! doesn’t that seem young? well i guess it does to me now that i am almost thirty. jeesh. such a little lamb back then before t-bone corrupted me with his love and proposals of marriage and such. aaaah.
  6. i love holland more than i think i would love the land of oz. however, there is no way of ever knowing that and i am aware of that.

yay! this is fun! i want to go on forever but i am afraid of how random this could get. for example i might spill about how i was a punk rocker for like my entire youth for halloween (badly approximating madonna in her like a virgin video (gawd – i STILL love that song!), or how i used to make boys i liked get down on their hands and knees so i could step on their backs getting onto the monkey bars at school (like, what was that about? can someone say control issues?). or how i love eating in random hole-in-the-wall chinese restaurants that smell suspiciously and taste deliciously. or how i love christmas far too much for someone approaching thirty. alright. i’m stopping. but i want to hear some random shit for all ya’ll and i will also be accepting ideas  for plots for my possible short story. perhaps i will blog some of it. or perhaps it will remain the untold story of a popcorn headed girl, dressed skankily like madonna, eating chinese food in the land without feelings.

um. whatevs.

billkurtis2for those of you who don’t watch a&e like it is their lifeblood, bill kurtis is a guy (with a silky-smooth voice btw) who hosts and narrates a variety of crime-related shows on the friggin’ fantastic channel that rocks my world. i am currently obsessed with investigative reports (and have been since roughly 1995), where kurtis leads viewers through tales of intrigue and murder, often featuring the criminals and victim-families involved, that lend themselves to infuriating questions such as “should teens face the death penalty in murder cases?” i say infuriating because they take me back to high school when i would argue against the death penalty in opposition to all my classmates whose arguments were premised on seemingly biological categorizations of “goodness” and “badness.” in any case, i digress. in case you are not an avid watcher of all that is disturbing on television, a&e also has a program called intervention. intervention is a “reality show” that documents actual surprise interventions (the person who is being intervened upon agrees to participate in a documentary and then basically gets hijacked by their family with the help of an interventionist – for a synopsis look here) and, usually, the resultant recovery of the addicted person.

yesterday i was watching intervention when something in my stomach told me to stop. i didn’t. and then paid the price. the intervention was for allison – a young woman with a huffing dependency on computer duster (that she actually ingested – that is, blew directly into her mouth and lungs from.the.can) and who also was an anorexic cutter. in her both her sisters’ paraphrased words, allison is trying to kill herself as loudly as possible by inflicting physical pain on herself to demonstrate to her family and the world just how much pain she herself is in. usually, i get through an episode of intervention, having gone through the emotion of it, but satisfied with the recovery process and the epilogue that states the number of months the intervened has since been sober. allison has haunted me since and i think it has to do with a number of factors.

first, her youth. both her and her sister were young women, and very young when they were sexually abused (a reality that later resulted in all of allison’s addictions and problems). they were just regular girls, both hurt, and one hurt beyond recognition. second, her multiple addictions. i am not an expert in the field of anorexia, but i was recently reading about the advent of so-called “drunkorexics” who drink their calories instead of eat them. while this is a tenuous title, and one that many health experts might be wary of, it indicates the integrated nature of addiction – that anorexics often have substance abuse issues, and perhaps vice versa. and third, it makes me think about vancouver’s downtown eastside (dtes) and how all these issue coincide there: abuse and victimization, skeletally-thin addicted women (who i am not implying are anorexic, but are starving nonetheless), and just how easy it is – or would be for people like allison – to end up on the streets without caring people like her family, who of course, have to be in a position to be able to help. this post was originally intended to be about how the bodies of women in the dtes, those skeletal, emaciated bodies, ravaged with years of drug use and misuse by others, are actually held up as a beauty ideal in magazines (to make an obvious, if not disturbing, point). but instead, allison’s story, and damaged body, continues to haunt me, because it could have been me. it could have been any of us who someone decided to mistreat, in ways that are difficult to recover from.

i think it ultimately speaks to the correlation between treatment of our bodies and understandings of ourselves. and if one is too young to have autonomy over themselves and are mistreated, they will often mistreat themselves. a long time ago i was in a car accident and i was hospitalized for almost two months. at fourteen years old, my roommates fell into one of only three categories: anorexics and bulimics, cancer and accident patients, and suicides. i had one of each, although i got to know my roommate C., the best. she had survived not only rape, but her attempt to kill herself after that rape. i decided then, and was reminded now, that there is something wrong in a world where young women’s bodies are mistreated, by others, and themselves as a result of pain. pain over hurt, pain over not being perfect, pain over not being enough. it is often said that young girls live in a scary world, and they should be protected. but i am going to suggest that young women are the real survivors. they are the ones who have to contend with a world that denies them autonomy, and then asks them to apologize.

as you can see, i need my own intervention. an intervention to not watch intervention.

oh. and i’d like bill kurtis to host it.

pantyhosei went to godforsaken edmonton recently to interview for a teaching position. i want to pause here to apologize to everyone i know who lives in godforsaken edmonton, anyone who enjoys it there, and anyone who knows or loves someone who lives there. the prairies are…interesting. that aside, i survived my very first interview and i want to chronicle what went wrong, what went right, and what i learned. here goes.

first of all, my beautiful and wonderful friend L. came with, and that made everything lovely and delicious. she was even trying to be like “edmonton is nice,” “edmonton seems safe and friendly,” and my personal favourite, “i’m sure if you lived here long enough you would find food that was good…really.” needless to say, we both kissed the ground when we returned to vancity. and may the gods of karma strike me down, i can’t see myself as an edmontonian. but i grew up in a small town in ontario. i have perspective. i am not saying i’m better than all that. i am saying sometimes you can see yourself in a place. sometimes you can’t. such is life. that was what my eighth-grade teacher used to say. such is life.

whatever the f*ck that means.

as someone who exists mainly in sweats and the occasional fabulous (yes, i am going to grant myself some fabulousness, so there) outfit when i actually leave the house, i managed to begin the day by shoving my finger through my tights (which were more like pantyhose but i don’t want to admit that i was actually thinking about wearing pantyhose because they are seriously scarring as a fabric, a concept, and a crotch-dropping reality), thereby creating a massive run that could not be hidden. luckily, i had some knee sock thingys that did the trick but showed my knobby knee-caps when i sat. first point goes to murphy’s law. i managed to spend a total of ten seconds with the head of the department before blurting this fact out. i think i managed to hold out well.

second point goes to me because i kicked ass in my interview and i am going to go so far as to say that i kicked ass during the entire TEN HOUR interview day. yeah, that’s right kids. i had all the answers. i was my spastic self. and it all seemed to come together in this glorious performance that by the end of the day i was convinced i couldn’t replicate. but, after my 9 ounce glass of wine (everything is big in alberta), i was sure i could withstand another full day of attention with ease. since seriously it is how i try to negotiate my whole life – that is, trying to attract copious amounts of jacks-attention – it really should (and apparently does) come naturally. points to jacks. for reals.

third point goes to thai food. i don’t think i have to remind anyone that i have a baby stomach, but needless to say, nerves, baby stomach, and thai food is a toxic nauseating mix that almost killed me. yeah, that’s right. i almost died a spicy death. sounds hot. but not.

the last billion points go to me. just cause i am proud of my kickass self. and job hunting is fun, albeit ridiculously stressful.

tell me great interview tales – i would love to hear the chronicles of your pantyhose ripping and such.

okay. go.

well. it was my blogiversary. two days ago. but i was sick. like snotty-faced head cold sick. and i even attempted to write a post in that state, but upon perusing it again, realized it makes no sense. it’s all tylenol cold meets shots of whiskey. thus, you get the two-days-late celebration of a year of wasting spending my time writing on this blog. there have been good times. bad blogger times. and all around inappropriate times (that post’s picture, much to my chagrin, is the most clicked on picture on my blog. i don’t know what that means, but it can’t be good). i think i have done a pretty bang up job as a bad blogger and a recovering technophobe. but just to convince you, dear sweet readers who hide from me, i will list some of my accomplishments over this past bloggyrific year as a way of saying screw you, i am gonna keep blogging and nobody can stop me (unless i actually get a job and they force me to). a year in the life of jacks-as-blogger or jackablogger:

  1. i have gone from bitching about starting my dissertation to being close to done a complete first draft. this has resulted in a search for gainful employment. when i began this blog, i hoped it would help motivate me and be an outlet and procrastination place. it has paid off in spades, my friends. spades. (i have no idea what that means).
  2. i taught myself how to use blogger and then moved over to where dr. beth, the alpha-bloggess told me all the cool kids were, that is, wordpress. THEN i taught myself how to use wordpress. it is like i am a computer genius or something. the really, really cool kids pay for their own domain but i am okay being a second-rung cool kid because i have never been one to kowtow to the whims and trends of others. or maybe i am. i have no idea.
  3. every time i think i will never be as pumped about another research project, i discover something like fat and fall deliciously, hopelessly in love with the idea of talking to people about it and turning it into something thinky (and bloggy) .
  4. i went to my first american conference (and blogged about it!) and it made me fall deeper in love with fat studies.
  5. i spoke at a blogging conference about my research.
  6. as a bona fide member of the wordpress community i have so far appeared in the “possibly related posts” section of three different blogs. they are: fat feminism: musings of a rubens woman – which, i might add, actually makes sense and looks like a cool blog; some kid’s blog who wrote a post about incest – okay, this was a little bit of a stretch but from what i saw, he was trying to be witty. i hope; and this blog, which i think is about nordic skiing. the link here – say with me folks – is a blog post about being a un-sexy pole dancer. get it? ski poles, stripper poles…anyhoo. it appears that “possibly related should be highlighted and bolded. i fear that the nordic ski people might not be getting the kind of pole-action they want (however, i posted the ic of when i went pole-dancing just to add to the confusion. hehe. take that wordpress!).
  7. i cat blogged once! sorry shells. and everybody.
  8. this list has to be ten. so here is number eight.
  9. blogging has inspired not only my future research project (about blogging and fat! wheee!) but it has also inspired that creative writing spirit that i lost roughly after i got my license. before that i would crank tori amos or classic rock (i can’t even stand the doors anymore because of how much i listened to them in my angsty youth. borf) and write really.bad.poetry while my father worried for the state of my mental health. it’s good to be back to the good ole days.
  10. basically, i kept it up for a year. and i am friggin’ proud of myself. *big shit-eating grin*

so during this little yay me blogiversary partay, i realized i don’t have a list of my categories. and i still don’t know how to tag things. um, dr. beth? help me…

oh yeah – and how could i forget: HAPPY H-WEEN kids! costume pics to come! (and tell me what you are going to be/were. now. NOW!).

so dr. beth – after a night of vegetarian cuisine and  my constant questions about what a ping is and how i can find out how important i am to the blogosphere – has helped me out with a post idea – that is a five things meme. basically i have to thrill you by answering questions with five answers. so here goes nothin’ kids.

FIVE things i was doing 10 years ago:

  1. deciding that instead of dropping out of university and becoming a chef (in which case i would now be working for dreamy gordon ramsey – i don’t usually dig men with light hair but comeon) or a florist, i would get my phd and become a professor (can somebody say existential crisis?)
  2. putting on roughly thirty pounds instead of the average “freshman fifteen” (good times)
  3. getting up the courage to end an almost-five-year-long relationship to live a life that somehow approximated sex and the city (the former happened, the latter, not so much)
  4. falling deeply and intensely in love with critical thought (feminist, anthropological, and sociological. seriously. i had a boner for theory)
  5. discovering exercise. and tanning. later, i will refer to this part of my life as the “surfer chick stage.” i neither surfed nor ever considered myself a chick, but upon being misrecognized at christmas by a younger cousin who i heard whisper to her mother “jacks sure looks different than before” i got a sense that something was awry. btw, it was my fake tan and platinum hair. yowza)

FIVE things on my to-do list today

  1. buy the remaining components of my h-ween costume (and no, you may not know what i am going to be so there. be patient. i will post pics)
  2. eat stuff. a special moment of ingestion will take place tonight when i go out with friends who are taking their new baby on the town for the first time. i let you know how that goes
  3. read more of the fat anthology i am currently obsessed with. it is called fat: the anthropology of an obsession. i am sure i don’t have to remind you how obsessed with fat i am right now
  4. try to send five minutes with t-bone. we’ve been busy so ships passing in the night or somethin’ like that
  5. decide about going to a concert. the band sounds a little like blue rodeo. and no. that isn’t good

(and i am aware that there is nothing regarding my dissertation on that list. it’s saturday. gimmie a break)

FIVE snacks i like

  1. poutine
  2. french fries
  3. potato chips
  4. beer (if none of the above is available)
  5. guacamole (i could seriously drink that shit. seriously)

FIVE things i would do if i had a million dollars

  1. make the barenaked ladies song “if i had a million dollars” the soundtrack of my life. it would come on when i walked into a room
  2. buy a forest green volvo circa 1979
  3. travel to figi
  4. maybe move somewhere warm
  5. buy a house in the country and have too many animals

FIVE places i’ve lived in

  1. small town ontario (pop. 4200)
  2. ottawa, our nation’s capital (there are two things ottawa does well: canada day and summer)
  3. toronto
  4. vancouver
  5. that’s it

FIVE jobs i’ve had

  1. interpretive guide/reception at a national historic site (basically i dressed up as a soldier’s wife from 1846 and got called wench a lot despite that being a temporally-inappropriate term for women of the era we were representing. i gave tours and found my peverse love of all things reception-y – including but not limited to the movie the secretary. i know. so wrong to go there)
  2. i worked for a minute for my grandfather in his print shop. i was hoping it would be more secretary-like but it ended up being more print-person like. it sucked. i quit on my second day
  3. i have been a teaching assistant and i am an instructor. i heart teaching but it seems almost like a not-real job cause it only exists in the forms i have done it in academia. and plus, i love it so it doesn’t feel like work (i know that is cheesy but it is true so suck it)
  4. sadly, that is also it. embarrassing, i know. i did the interpretive guide thing for like 6 years – basically it stole my youth and i have been doing number 3 for about the same amount of time. apparently i don’t like to diversify. essentially, i am unemployable outside of academia. pray that i get a job. for reals

I am suppose to tag people here but i don’t have enough friends who blog so instead i am going to write five words i find funny. i believe this ruins the point of a meme, but i never claimed to know what i was doing on the internets.

FIVE words i fine funny

  1. mustache
  2. panties
  3. viscous
  4. scrotum
  5. sycophant (word and deed are highly annoying)

it would be nice if you chose one of these categories and provided your own answers in the comments section i might just love you forever. really i will.