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Again, how to give money to Michael Brown’s family.
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Fark.com adds spotting misogyny to their comment moderation guidelines.
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how about some dogs eating popsicles
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Your dad is 91, which means he is an adult entitled to eat his feelings and also that he’s officially in overtime:
Q. Elderly Dad’s Diet: My dad is 91 and has diabetes. My brother, who lives with him, has put dad on a strict diet which cuts out all sweets. Dad finds his new diet depressing, particularly as he started comfort eating since his health declined rapidly in the past few months. Based on everything that’s going on health-wise I doubt he’d be around for much longer. So if he wants to eat cake and ice cream with every meal, I think he should. I am hesitant to criticize my brother who I know is trying his best in difficult circumstances. When I quietly brought up the issue of sweets, he insisted it was in dad’s best interests to keep him on the current diet. How can I press this issue further without driving a wedge between us?
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Please be true, and if you know it’s not true, keep it to yourself:
On the evening of November 4th, Simpson and his two friends experimented with it. At first, they felt very cheerful and talkative. After a short time, they passed out. Impressed with the drug’s potency, Simpson began using chloroform as an anaesthetic, and indeed, the first baby born to a mother under the drug’s influence was named Anaesthesia.
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If you live in Utah (you don’t) and are a Professional Mormon Enthusiast and/or Lover of Curios, the Ogden temple is having an open house post-renovations, pre-re-dedication, so ANY RANDO can go inside and poke around (if they make a reservation and can act like an adult for the duration of the tour) and I am going on Thursday (you usually cannot enter the temple without a temple recommend, which is…oh, basically the most complicated thing in the world.) You don’t have to pay anything, which is helpful if your interest in the LDS faith does not extend to wanting to support them financially, though I intend to buy ice cream from local businesses, yes I do.
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Your man might not just be cheating on you, he could also be a spy. Men who frequent radical bookshops are usually government plants. Break up with him now, just in case:
As Rob Evans and Paul Lewis write in “Undercover: The True Story of Britain’s Secret Police,” Lambert “was well versed in political theory.” A former acquaintance told them, of Bob, “He was not a cardboard activist, he had real depth to him.” (Evans and Lewis exposed many of the events in this story in a series of articles in the Guardian, for which they won a 2014 British Press Award, and in “Undercover,” which is the definitive account of the excesses of undercover policing in Britain.) He urged Jacqui, a vegetarian, to become a vegan. With his long hair and off-the-grid life style, he seemed the embodiment of the anti-consumerist ethos of the British far left in the Thatcher age.
This is a long and fascinating tale, and he did many more shameful things LIKE HAVING A KID AND THEN PEACE-ING, but the idea that a FAKE ANIMAL RIGHTS ACTIVIST WORKING FOR THE GOVERNMENT would nag his girlfriend into being a vegan is just…everything. You know he was eating meat-on-meat sandwiches while reading The Daily Telegraph whenever he was alone.
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My mom is here, and she thinks my work is so important that I need attractive lunches brought to me in bed so I can continue doing it without interruption:
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Not only is rock climbing great, it’s basically the best preparation we have (apart from being a nationally-ranked gymnast) for AMERICAN NINJA WARRIOR.
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In a charming departure from deleting racist comments on Ferguson-themed pieces, it was my great pleasure to spot this incomplete, if well-targeted spam comment:
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Okay, one more:
Tags: feminism, link roundup, the internet
This guy:
Clearly not this dog’s first Popsicle.
Just LOOKING at that makes my teeth hurt.
Yes, but dog don’t care. Dog is pleased. Dog has a popsicle.
Awaiting interview with a dog with popsicle…
Dog: I haff a popshikle
Interviewer: Tell us your feelings about the popsicle.
Dog: I haff a popshikle. It ish in my mouf.
Interviewer: Why did you choose blue?
Dog: Ish my popshikle. I loff it. It ish in my mouf. I haff it.
Interviewer: I’m not going to take away your popsicle.
Dog: *runs off*
OMG, this is too perfect.
“Ish my popshikle…” DYING!
A+++
I liked this one:
Because clearly, this is nbd for this guy.
Guys, do your beleaguered psyches a favor and don’t click through to the main page of this tumblr. It is not all happy popsicle dogs and now I’m crying at work. I just wanted more popsicle dogs!!!
https://www.flickr.com/photos/dynamutt/page1/ The original source web site is safe! All beautiful photos of dogs in nature. Happy, happy dogs.
Once again, I call for an entire article of rejected comments. Let us mock them, Nicole, mock them like they deserve.
I wish my mum would visit and bring me lunch in bed, but she’d probably just complain about my clutter and tell me I’d ruined my body with the new mods.
Mine offers to buy me electrolysis!
Edited to reflect: I have told approximately 30,000 times that I have no interest in electrolysis.
Carlos gets right to the point, doesn’t he?
I hope it’s Carlos Danger.
I love that his email address means “toast” in Spanish
Nice touch!
SirDigbyChickenCaesar: What if it’s guy on guy rape? That still cool?
Not at all. Rape jokes are no longer allowed, it doesn’t matter who the victim is.
If you want to counterpoint someone saying We won’t be allowing misogyny on this forum, my advice would be don’t because you’re a jerk.
– Calling women as a group “whores” or “sluts” or similar demeaning terminology
b-b-b-b-b-but what if she really is a whore?
I recommend that when encountering grey areas, instead of trying to figure out where the actual line is, the best strategy would be to stay out of the grey area entirely.
WHAT A NOVEL CONCEPT
Of COURSE that guy has a Mitchell and Webb Look reference as a username. Why am I not surprised.
So disappointed to see the Sir Digby Chicken Caesar name used for evil 🙁
If she really is a sex worker, then you can call her a sex worker, sirrah.
That article about the use of Queen Victoria’s use of chloroform is excellent. ALL SHOULD READ IT. Victoria’s reign was so influential in so many ways, but people today tend to use it as a sort of byword for “very old-fashioned and staid,” when in reality, Victorian people were CRAZY for technology. All kinds of new and improving things! Like medication for childbirth!
(Interesting note: Another childbirth incident was that the death of Princess Charlotte, whose death led the way for Victoria to become queen, was the result of a terrible birth. Her child was stillborn after a terribly long labour in which the obstetrician would not do anything to ease her pain. Charlotte died several hours later from internal bleeding. A few months later her physician who had overseen the birth shot himself out of guilt. Thus was the Victorian era born.)
Also, Nicole, your mom is excellent and that lunch looks so perfect I need an omelette now.
One of my favorite fantasy novels involves someone dropping off a modern engineering textbook in Victorian London in order to cackle and watch them destroy everything in their eagerness to 1) build everything and 2) rule the world. Predictably, these Victorians were not responsible with their new powers. I mean. Disraeli with nukes. Oy.
This book sounds FASCINATING. Do you remember the title?
It’s called To Visit The Queen! Warning: the main characters are all cat wizards, and it’s a sequel to The Book of Night With Moon, which is also great but a bit different. (No Victorians, but there are dinosaurs and a lot of wild business in Grand Central Station.)
Adding both to my to-read list (and telling my girlfriend about them) right now, omg.
Seconding requests for a title, please!
It’s called To Visit The Queen! Warning: the main characters are all cat wizards, and it’s a sequel to The Book of Night With Moon, which is also great but a bit different. (No Victorians, but there are dinosaurs and a lot of wild business in Grand Central Station.)
Man, if I am ever 91 and rapidly declining in health, I plan to use my last money to hire a dessert bodyguard to protect me from anyone attempting to take away my cake.
And make it very clear that the dessert bodyguard’s salary is coming out of the inheritance of whatever puling descendant of mine is trying to keep me from dessert in the first place.
No kidding. I mean, I think Prudie actually had a point in that the caretaking child may be refusing to see the writing on the wall and choosing to be Food Police in that effort, but…..if I get to 91 I’m going to eat what I damn well please and no one will take it from me, the end. If I want to eat cake for three meals a day TOO DAMN BAD.
This fully happened in my family, with my partner’s diabetic grandfather. It was so hard to navigate, because partner and I were like, “Jesus Christ, give the man whatever he wants, he fought the Nazis!” — but the thing is, to his wife and daughter, every cookie he ate was like acknowledging all over again the fact that getting him healthy was not a priority because he was going to die soon anyway. It was so fraught, and even though the whole situation was absurd and caused family static for no reason…I don’t know. Death makes people lose their shit. You have to allow for stuff, I guess.
It’s also not like every sweet represents a neat whittling away of a few minutes off the back end of life, either. If I were the live-in caretaker to my 91 year old dad, and decided that “not enduring a sore that will never heal until the limb is amputated” was a more compelling quality of life metric than “will spend 1-5 minutes per meal enjoying a cupcake,” I would tell my stupid brother to kiss my butt if he came at me like “Why are you so meeeeean?”
Also, let’s be real, sometimes eating what tastes good has digestive consequences that can be very uncomfortable. I’m not saying the dude shouldn’t get some ice cream, but diet affects quality of life beyond just “I am sad and ice cream tastes good”.
Yes. If he wasn’t diabetic it would be a different matter, but too much sugar causes a lot of short term problems, discomfort, and can lead to very painful, nasty complications very quickly. I think maybe they could compromise and find a way to give the man a small treat every day, but I’m with Caretaker Child on the helping a diabetic follow a good diet issue.
My grandmother’s doctor sent her home from a late-in-life hospital visit with instructions to give up smoking and raw oysters. 20 years later, I still think he was right about the smoking and wrong wrong wrong about the oysters. She loved raw oysters, she wasn’t going to live much longer and she knew it, and it seems poorly considered to remove one of her great pleasures with so little reason.
Then he tried to come after her daily two-to-four ounces of sherry. NOPE NOPE NOPE, back it up, doc. She was having none of that guff.
If I get to 91, not only will I be eating cake and doughnuts for 3 meals a day, I’ll probably be smoking and drinking 3 or 4 bourbons as well. I mean, what am I going to do, ruin my liver?
Devote the cake-takers’ portion of the will to it, and also to more cake
I’ve just found my calling.
My 93 year old grandma lives in a complex care facility. She turns her nose up at the perfectly nutritionally balanced meals prepared by the facility and basically eats chocolate and sweets all day instead. They’ve tried to talk to my mom about limiting her sweets intake, but my mom told them not to bother. I mean, she’s 93! She’s almost totally blind and so arthritic that she can’t even get out of her chair and go to the bathroom by herself. Her life has narrowed so much over the past decade and the only real only real enjoyment she has left is listening to books on tape while eating chocolates. We’re not going to take that from her.
Hells yeah. My dad got all tied up in knots about whether or not my grandpa was drinking too much champagne at his 90th birthday party. Lucky for gramps he was sitting next to me, who would cheerfully pass him the bottle every time he asked for it and pretend not to see my dad glowering at me from across the table 🙂
(After lunch gramps stood up and said “Oooh I feel a bit funny” and then trundled off for an hour-long nap before cheerfully rejoining the party.)
I was terrified that your parenthetical was going to end in gramps passing away. Unspeakably relieved this was not the case.
Hahahaha
I would like to imagine that I would use smiley faces a *bit* less liberally if it was a story about how I accidentally killed my grandpa with celebratory champagne.. Although, not the worst way to go, right? Warm, fuzzy, full of bubbly, surrounded by your clan celebrating your life..
Your mom is amazing, or as our commenter above says, “has some valuable”.
Q. Is It OK for My 8-Year-Old Boy/Girl Twins to Sleep Together?
Yes! The world needs more twincest-themed letters to Dear Prudie!
Weird thematic resonance with my morning subway read: Ada.
As in or Ardor? That’s my favourite book.
Yup. I’m very much enjoying it so far, but kind of sweating whether I can finish it before I have to return it to the library.
tbh I almost always skip the “Texture of Time” chapter when I read it.
Twincest, twincest!
Here’s a fun article for the day: Even When Police Do Wear Cameras You Can’t Count on Ever Seeing the Footage
KACY FOR QUEEN you guys I’m so nervous for her
When are they going to Mount Bananarama for the finals? I never get control of the remote and I really want her to crush it.
They started last night, but last night they were saying she runs in two weeks, so next week might be reruns? I’m not sure. Also Mount Bananarama is a way better name for it.
Also, I would like to extend “never call” to pretty much everything, not just scheduling dates. TEXTING/EMAILING FOREVER. I had somebody call me this morning to schedule a job interview (!!) and was so nervous I about dropped the phone. I also had to check my calendar while managing to not hang up on the guy, which was more nerve-wracking. This could all have been solved with email.
As a GenX-type, I would like to thank All You Kids Today for making my cohort look socially well-adjusted by comparison. I did not see that coming!
We’re happy to be the current punching bag/Root Of All Ills until the next generation hits their 20s and starts screwing up in new and interesting ways.
PLEASE AND THANK YOU. If you absolutely MUST call, I require a warning, via text, no less than three hours in advance, so that I can steel myself for spontaneous real-time communication.
I mentioned once to my therapist that I hate talking on the phone and she really wanted to delve into WHY, when I thought it was pretty obvious that talking on the phone is the worst. People I want to talk to on the phone: my parents, my boyfriend, my closest friends, my cats. Length of time I want to talk to them: 5 minutes, maximum.
I hate the phone. Not least because my job forces me to be on it all. day. long. Texting = yes. Emailing = yes. FB/other messaging = yes. After I am done work for the day, I don’t want a ringing phone anywhere in my vicinity.
YES. I get giddy when I get a text reminder from my dentist about an appointment, because it’s one more phone call that we both avoided. On the other hand, my eye doctor has left me two voicemails in the last week, which I still haven’t listened to because the only thing worse than talking on the phone is listening to voicemails.
Actually, having to leave voicemails is the worst. Corollary: listening to a voicemail that I have left is the actual worst.
I straight up FEAR the voicemails. I always feel/fear it’s going to be some official body telling me off or my work suddenly firing me for no reason. Brrrrrr.
I thought I was the only one who feared voicemails like that. For no reason.
I have the same fear of going to any government body. They’re going to tell me to fuck off for some reason I KNOW IT.
It may be part of being an American, but I would relish the chance to tell off a government worker. They work for *me* dammit. I’ve been paying taxes for decades. And I will say so, loudly.
Of the people, by the people, and for the people. I am a member of The People.
And I used to work for the feds. So woe to you, government drone, if you piss me off. I know exactly how to make your work life miserable.
I have been phone-phobic my whole life and I am so happy, yet again, to have found my tribe here on The Toast.
PHONE HATERS UNITE. I used to think I was the only one, but I keep meeting more and more of us.
I have thought about therapy related to my phone phobia. NOW I REALIZE I DON’T NEED IT. thanks toastariat.
YES yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes
Public Service Announcement: Epidurals, can fail. I know, I couldn’t believe it either. The one vestige of respite in the cruel world of childbirth can crap out on you without notice. I don’t know if the anesthesiologist was just inept or my spine is weirdly shaped or what, but just as transition (the vagina-ripping part) really started, the pain came back full force. The drugs were going somewhere, but not where they needed to go. By the time the anesthesiologist came down from some undeserving man’s open heart surgery or whatever, I was fully dilated and it was time to push. A-GO-NY.
They say you forget the pain, but I haven’t forgotten. My husband wants to try for another kid, I tell him to go right ahead and let me know how it works out for him.
That is horrifying! I have no plans to give birth, but if I changed my mind I would definitely want reliable anesthetic.
Like a hammer to the head or something.
Uuuugh sorry for the unnecessary comma. It is staring at me and I am dying.
I like it! Gives the whole thing a very Shatnerian delivery.
A Shatnerian delivery: “You, are at ten centimetres and fully, effaced. Oh, my god. The baby, is… crowning. It’s time, to push.”
God I love you people
I like it! It’s like a dramatic pause!
I was so
0_o
0_0
0_0
at the prospect of a failed epidural that I didn’t even notice that comma ’til you said that.
It’s been 23 years and since I almost died, no I have not forgotten. Men, go ahead and have those babies yourselves. Let me know what improvements you’ll make to the process (because of course YOU know best) now that YOU are the one in pain.
Husband ACTUALLY SAID, “What? It was only like 40 minutes of pushing!” I offered to stab him in the crotch for only 40 minutes so he could truly empathize.
ONLY 40 MINUTES OF PUSHING – KILL HIM NOW
That’s some world class Mansplaining away your pain
Would he enjoy forty minutes of a root canal w/o anesthesia?
Forty minutes of an appendectomy?
Forty minutes of resetting a broken leg w/o a shot?
GO AHEAD, MENZ
I’ve been trying to tell the Dude that he should become a seahorse, but noooo for some reason he won’t comply.
Death to that anesthesiologist. He failed you in your HOUR OF NEED.
(I’m kind of assuming male gender here in the absence of pronouns, due to the apparent ineptitude.)
THIS HAPPENED TO MY MOM WHILE HAVING ME APPARENTLY. Forever horrified.
Well I goddamn hope you were worth it.
Highly questionable, if her description of the experience is any indication. SORRY MOM.
You should bake her an apology cake every year on the anniversary of that event.
Which would be on your birthday. Yes. That is the anniversary of the day she gave birth to you. Well done, self.
“the vagina-ripping part”
nope nope nope nope nope nope nope NOPETOPUS
I still use the phone so much, and can’t get past that article’s insistence that nobody these days knows how to talk on the phone anymore. I’m 28, y’all, and it made me feel like a dinosaur!
Then again, it took me a couple years to get the memo that leaving a social voicemail is considered rude, so I’m clearly a monster when it comes to phone etiquette.
It’s not rude, I’m just never going to listen to it.
edit: until I get sick of seeing the little voicemail icon on my phone and listen to six at a time to clear out my mailbox. There is no guarantee as to when this will happen.
I’m terrible about cleaning out my voicemail, too. My friends and family complain constantly. But the thing is, I *like* talking to people on the phone, so what I do is, when I see that I have a missed call (with an area code that I recognize, because *no, I don’t want to talk to you about life insurance/home security systems/timeshares, does anyone?*), I call them back.
I guess I think voicemail is silly at this point. If you want to hear the melodious sound of my voice, we can talk. If you don’t want that, text me instead. Done and done.
I’m with you, actually. But I’m 34 and most of my friends don’t seem to mind?
Wait, I hate the phone but I don’t consider social voicemails rude. I find it disconcerting when friends call me and don’t leave a message–I just kinda stare at the missed call and go “wonder if she’s okay?” Then again, I don’t get many social phone calls–usually I use email or texts to arrange a time to get together with my friends and then we talk in person.
I do use the phone all the time for work, though. Developing a Professional Phone Voice was one of the most valuable aspects of my first real job.
My best friend calls me on a pretty regular basis just to talk. Which I love. But my phone will tell me that I missed a call from her. I don’t need a voicemail to know that she called just to talk. If she called to tell me something important, that is what voicemail is for (but I probably won’t listen and will just call her any way).
I have given my work husband strict orders to tell me if he hears me lapsing into what we call “pixie voice” – I have this horrible tendency to just go full infant on the phone sometimes and it is something that I am working hard at getting over.
Ah! I do that too! Especially if patients on the phone are getting ornery and rude. I call it my flight attendant voice. It’s, theoretically, more difficult for people to curse you out when you simper sweetly at them.
Sometimes when people are awful, though. I just “….” at them, and let their last ringing insult just echo on the phone line until everyone involved feels awkward and uncomfortable.
I hate phones.
I am 30 and I will go to almost any lengths to avoid speaking on the phone. My outgoing voicemail message says “Leave a message if you must, but please consider sending me a text message or an email.” Nobody complies.
No one listens to vmail greetings. Mine said THIS IS NOT MILLER DRUG STORE! HANG UP! I still got messages from several old women asking for their prescriptions. About 4 per week. And my name is not Miller, or anything similar.
Haha, yes! When I first got my current number, I had to put “This is not Carlos’s phone! Please don’t leave a message for Carlos!” at the beginning of my message. I still get the occasional call for him, whoever he is, and I’ve had this number for probably nine years now.
My friend’s phone number is the fake phone number a very attractive (apparently) woman gives out at bars.
He started out with the “This is not Lia’s phone!” message, but has now switched to punking them extensively. (Mostly he pretends that she’s a ghost. That is effective.)
Adopt them. Let them guide you. Bathe in the collected wisdom of the matriarchs of Miller Drug Store.
Meet them at the drug store. Hand them stargazer lilies and a casserole. “I got your message, I thought you might like these.”
Oh God, my outgoing message said “THIS IS NOT XXX-XXXX DRILLING, I CANNOT HELP YOU POOR FOOLS, PLEASE CALL 1-800-XXX-XXXX IF YOU WANT YOUR WATER TREATED” for the longest time – my phone number spells the name of a water treatment company and I was forever getting confused calls who dialed (AREA CODE) instead of (800).
Still not sure about the fellow who called them about the goat, though.
You… you don’t sacrifice a goat when you dig a well? How else do you satisfy Hecate and the other denizens of the underdark?
Clearly you are wise in the ways of well digging as I am not.
*folds hands, assumes respectful anticipatory position*
Because I am bad at reading, I saw only the second line of your message and thought I’d accidentally fallen into an internet flame topic. My heart.
This is my experience with well drilling: I show up where they dig wells. I say “See any snakes?”. All the well drillers say “No.” or “Yes, jokes about how I messed with an endangered species, LOL.” I laugh at jokes as required. I walk around looking for snakes. I show everyone pictures of snakes, cover the ways snakes seek death and the ways to thwart them, and write down that I did all of the above things. I go read science fiction in my car.
I think probably a better sacrifice to aid well-drilling is a kiddie-pool full of goldfish a hundred yards from the well. Distract those snakes!
Ha sorry didn’t mean to incur cardiac event! Your professional experience with well digging is super impressive – the Toast is so educational!
Will def pass along the goldfish kiddie pool recommendation to Goat Guy if he calls back.
OH MAN. My aunt is 100% convinced that her first husband was a French spy of some kind. I can’t remember the details of her beliefs on this matter (the man died without leaving any proof), but I’m pretty sure it involves Nazis and a double life. She’s trying to write a book about it, which should go nicely with the book my uncle (her husband) wrote about Judy Garland (his ex) as a spy in WWII. Books on the daring, possibly fictional exploits of my relatives’ exes in WWII: apparently a genre!
I’m very hungry but not hungry enough to do anything about it yet, so that picture of your omelette is killing me.
Where does one find this book?!
The Judy Garland one? It’s called Operation Ruby Slipper. I haven’t read it, so I cannot advise you further.
My cousin’s teacher was briefly married to a veteran. He was supposedly just in the infantry, but she thinks he was really some sort of special forces spy. Evidence: A) when they first got engaged the dude told her not to look him up online, and routinely checked their home computer to make sure she didn’t. Pretty amateur stuff for a real spy, but when she decided to try that on a school computer, a minute after the search her hubby called and asked her why she was googling him. The search whiffed and found no results for his name except his marriage announcement. (This was a bit before social media really took off). B) Hubby once got very drunk while watching “Hunt for the Red October” and started riffing on how “that’s not what the insides of Russian nuclear submarines REALLY look like”. C) While looking for something she’d lost, she found a shoebox full of passports with his picture, but not his name. By this point she had decided to keep her mouth shut. Either way, they divorced pretty quick.
Holy cow, this is my worst nightmare.
That’s not hugely subtle for a spy, but I guess every business has its less and more committed employees.
At school there was a running joke that one girl’s dad was a spy, because any evidence offered against this hypothesis was “just what a spy would say/do/convince you of!”
Ah, the Final Argument of all conspiracy theorists 🙂
I would definitely watch this movie.
I know I should be horrified or something, but I’m absolutely fa-sci-na-ted and I think this is soooooo cool.
A friend’s husband works for the State Department, and is not legally allowed to give us any details beyond that. This is hilarious, because he hates it when we talk about how he’s a spy assassin, but he can’t actually provide any counter-argument.
I dated a guy who had had two people become seriously convinced he was CSIS (Canadian CIA). Given his inability to actually complete anything ever, I doubt he was, but I can also see why people might have thought that.
“He somehow avoided going to the registry office to sign forms identifying him as Francis’s father.”
One more reason not to have kids: MY HUSBAND IS PROBABLY A SPY
With a beard like that? ALMOST CERTAINLY
And then he has the audacity, decades later, to make the woman he abandoned feel guilty when she asks if their son has any half-siblings running around.
Because the children from his SECRET FAMILY, which he hid from her during their ENTIRE RELATIONSHIP, had both died.
OF A GENETIC CONDITION. Which he then never bothered to tell his ONE SURVIVING CHILD he might be at risk for.
No but like he’s really *sensitive* about it
YES. THAT BIT.
I am absolutely a Professional Mormon Enthusiast and although I don’t live in Utah, I am going to be IN UTAH DURING THE TEMPLE OPEN HOUSE. Alas, in the wilds of southern Utah and not in Odgen. So sad to be missing out.
I got to go to a temple open house years ago, and it was really interesting! Well, it was basically like a church or temple of any reasonably high-liturgy religion, but it FELT interesting and cool because it would shortly thereafter become SEKRIT.
MICHELE ROBERTS, NEW MISANDRIST HERO:
“My past is littered with the bones of men who were foolish enough to think I was someone they could sleep on.”
Mallory sang her praises beautifully yesterday afternoon but I am happy to continue doing so here! *fawns*
Ah, dang, that’s what I get for letting work interfere with my misandry.
In dirtbag news, the BME ‘Stories’ section is a great place to mine for dirbaggyness. My personal favourite so far is a girl who stole money out of a wallet and went to get a shitty tattoo from a back-alley scratcher.
http://www.bme.com/media/story/all
Be aware, a lot of BME is not suitable for work or sensitive types. Avoid the Hard, Scarification and Genital zones and you’ll mostly be OK though.
I have moderately stretched ear piercings so I used to go on BME a lot since I was told it was the ultimate guidebook when it came to body modification until I realized it is a landmine of dead links and poorly organized web portals and White People With Dreads
yep, that’s the place. The wiki is good for gathering useful info though, and the picture galleries are great to look for the sort of thing you like. The stories section, however, is best to look through for people getting terrible work they will regret/already regret.
Ugh so much dirtbaggyness! “Well let’s start off by saying, of course, the navel piercing is the first body mod I ever fell in love with at the tender age of 13. And you guessed it, I wasn’t aloud to get it”
So, after knowing Jason a.k.a. “Goober” for six months, I decided that I could not wait any longer and that I wanted to have him tattoo me. (First Mistake) I was convinced I was madly in love at fifteen years old, and I wanted to display it proudly to the whole world (with the exception of my father, who would have murdered me). I decided to have my boyfriend’s nickname, “Fallen Angel,” tattooed on my right shoulder blade.
http://www.bme.com/media/story/828557/?cat=tattoo
Yep, I think we’ve reached Peak Dirtbag.
Teeniboppers are the best
Can we talk about Prudie’s response re: Creepy Lunch Guy? I kept hoping for a comment from a reader saying “listen to your gut!” but…nothing. Shut it down! Maybe he is innocent, but seriously, *listen to your gut.*
Grrr that was the worst advice (and I actually didn’t even like the 91-year-old dessert advice, because an end fraught with diabetic complications may not be as “sweet” as Prudie seems to think – though the advice for all 3 to sit down with the doctor is good). I feel like the same people who were brushing her off as overreacting will be like, “What did you THINK was going to happen?” when she writes in in 2 weeks to say she went and got sexually harassed. You cannot win.
Yeah I feel like him asking for her phone number is a pretty sure sign this is not work-related. I have gone out to lunch with numerous of my coworkers and they have never asked for a non-work number.
Yeah, the coworker is totally going to try and hit on her. There’s no way he doesn’t know what it looks like, and if he had good intentions he’d have made them clear. Now he’s going to be pissed off at her for “leading him on”.
I got seriously skeeved out by that response. It was so very ‘he’s a nice guy, give him a chance.’ Listen to your gut, girl! Or invite another coworker to join you – if he reacts badly, you know what is up.
What is evening happening with the ice cream question? I never thought I would hear Prudie call anyone/anything “dope.” Did she mean “your brother is A dope?” Why was the question published? Is it supposed to be her cheekily making fun of trolls? I’M SO CONFUSED.
I had to read it over several times because I was like “Am I having a stroke or something? How is this a thing that actually exists?”
I think it’s a typo, but I think it’s HILARIOUS to imagine Prudie calling something “dope.”
It must be a typo, because the brother is totally NOT dope. The vanilla part of Neopolitan is the best part, then strawberry and then you give the chocolate to someone else.
You are 100% correct.
So last weekend my 93 year old Grandma was literally dying (it appears to have been a false alarm as she’s doing better this week but they called in everybody, including my uncle who had to fly across the country). She’s still sharp as a tack and kept asking for ice cream, even saying that the nutritionist had given her the ok because ice cream has a lot of protein. I have no idea if that is true or a cunning lie to get ice cream but WHO CARES.
The nurse first said she couldn’t have ice cream because of her blood sugar (WHAT DOES IT MATTER GIVE HER MORE INSULIN) and then tried to convince us she was going to bring in some ice cream she had that “doesn’t melt,” which I am 100% sure is some kind of shitty hospital diabetic pudding.
Anyway I’m THIS CLOSE to sneaking in ice cream, even though it would be tough because I’m 90 minutes away.
do it do it doooooooooo it
DO IT – she is 93 for Pete’s sake. I am fully in favor of older persons eating whatever the hell they want.
no but you guys the Prudie letter about the ice cream, that has to be a troll right?? Everyone knows the vanilla’s the best part anyway.
FOR REAL. What is with all the vanilla hate from these people in the column?
They have crude and unsubtle palates, obviously.
Every time I’m home my mom wants to make me some elaborate food thing and I always refuse because I am An Adult Lady Who Can Cook Her Own Meals Don’t Worry About it Mom but every so often I cave because they look like what your mom made pictured above.
I might be an Adult Lady but like 70% of the point of being home is for my mom to cook for me.
Sometimes she tailors my new outfits too, that’s nice.
Same here, except it’s my dad doing most of the cooking.
This tradition has been passed on, as my brother is now the one who does most of the cooking in his household.
SUBLIMESEDUCTION.COM
In addition to donating to the Brown family, you can also donate to Amnesty’s on the ground efforts here: http://www.amnestyusa.org/MO
Here is some background on the Amnesty team (couple of days old): http://www.buzzfeed.com/chrisgeidner/amnesty-inte…
Ohhh I went to a Mormon temple before consecration a few years ago – totally worth it. My husband was raised Mormon and it was his first chance inside one, so it was fun getting his take on it all. For a representation of celestial beauty on earth, it looked an awful lot like a Sheraton. Except for the hot tub on the back of twelve life sized marble oxen, that was about how I imagined the afterlife.
Note to self: locate pre-consecration Mormon temple to check out. Oxen, you say?
Real question: the Mormon temple near me has a sign that says “visitors welcome” but I have heard a lot about how non-Mormons are not allowed inside temples, to the extent that friends have had ring dedication ceremonies in non-temple locations pre/post-wedding for non-Mormon family members. Someone set me straight on what the etiquette is?
CORRECT ME IF I’M WRONG, but I think most temples has a visitor’s center or fellowship hall attached where non-recommended Mormons and us common folk can go. Actually getting into a temple is so hard that some of my husband’s Mormon family can’t get recommends.
Correct!
Whoa whoa whoa, so even Mormons can’t get into their own temples in some cases?
That is some COLD exclusivity there.
They can still go to all normal church services and events, temples are more rare, extra-special places not for daily worship (it’s where they do their eternal marriage sealings and endowments and so on.)
(Because Utah is so, so heavily LDS, I try to be as informed as possible about it, like I would if I lived in a foreign country with a totally alien-to-me majority religion.)
I also briefly considered fake-converting for the social life, but elected against it.
You can still enjoy the food. Personally, I am disinclined to join groups whose social rituals ban booze, but perhaps that’s the result of growing up in a faith whose clergy were anything but teetotal. Our choir director, seeing me shivering one cold evening, said sternly, “Rillquiet, do a shot before you come to church. One hundred grams of vodka, and it’ll help your voice, too.” (I didn’t follow his advice, but the tenors made up for me.)
My introduction to funeral potatoes was when a Mormon coworker brought some…to an office baby shower. I was horrified, but then there was cheese and potatoes and nothing hurt (except the violently pink gifts everyone except me had brought to the shower).
The best part about candle salad is that its non-LDS incarnation apparently involves hollowing out the tip of the banana, filling the space with booze and an almond, and lighting the hooch for presentation. The bowdlerized nonalcoholic version shown at that link is infinitely funnier, but I don’t think it’s meant to be.
The two culinary highlights of the single Mormon baby shower I have been to:
STUFFING COOKIES – take boxed stuffing, prepare and bake like cookies
“SUSHI” – take spinach flour tortilla, spread with mayo, roll up and slice like a sushi roll
WUT.
I’ve got plenty of issues with Neal Stephenson, but in REAMDE he nails this kind of food culture: “…he was fascinated by the mid-western/middle American phenomenon of recombinant cuisine. Rice Krispie Treats being a prototypical example in that they were made by repurposing other foods that had already been prepared (to wit, breakfast cereal and marshmallows). And of course, any recipe that called for a can of cream of mushroom soup fell into the same category. The unifying principle behind all recombinant cuisine seemed to be indifference, if not outright hostility, to the use of anything that a coastal foodie would define as an ingredient.”
Will it blow your mind to tell you this was in Vancouver, BC possibly one of the best sushi cities in North America? Hahahaha
That’s really interesting. I studied food cultures as part of my (incomplete) MA, and I haven’t heard of this guy. This sounds really interesting, can I ask for a brief rundown of the issues you have with him?
He’s an SF author with a severe case of My Researches Let Me Show You Them, so his narratives are constantly interrupted by pauses for essays on things he’s read and synthesized. And they’re interesting, too, I don’t fault him on that, but they’re not really integrated into the text; the seams are always showing. “This character is from the Russian mafia! Here is his backstory, which involves explaining how pension systems in organized crime work! Here are the economic principles underlying the historical development of such systems in different criminal cultures! Aaaand now back to your kidnapping in progress.” You’re left blinking–hey, I didn’t know that, how cool, wait, who are we talking about again, kidnapping, girlfriend, hackspace, RIGHT. That’s my major issue with him as a writer: He can’t decide whether he’s writing essays or fiction, so he writes something that isn’t quite satisfying as either. I think he’d actually be amazing in some sort of hyperlinked text where you could choose to drop off and read his research and then go back; as it stands, you’re kind of dragged through it whether you will or no.
My other big problem is how he writes women. His main female characters are almost always amazing at something, but they usually lack any kind of inner life. They may advance the plot, but most of the time you can’t tell why. It bugs me, because I want to like the Cool Skateboarder and the Cool Scuba Girl and the Cool Adopted Badass, but they don’t seem to have personalities beyond sassy/competent. It grates after a while.
I actually love the “My Researches Let Me Show You Them” aspect of Neal Stephenson- it’s like I’m reading an informative nonfiction book and a good novel at the same time! But I totally get that it’s not to everyone’s taste, and I agree about his poor characterization of women.
Also I thought Reamde was his worst work so far- lots of racism and !YAY GUNS! and Deus Ex Mountain Lion. It almost seemed to veer into Orson Scott Card territory.
Yes, so well put about Stephenson. I really enjoy many of his works (Diamond Age!) but “My Researches Let Me Show You Them” syndrome is totally spot-on.
Whoa
Do yourself a favor and Goggle “candle salad”
The image search thumbnails look DISTINCTLY unsafe for work.
It is pineapple, with the core scooped out so a banana can stand erect (can’t resist) like a candle. The banana is drizzled with whipped cream (like melting wax), and topped with a red maraschino cherry. Served on a bed of sprouts (!!!) or lettuce.
It is the most [presumably unintentionally] phallic food item I’ve ever seen, and I made penis cookies once.
“like melting wax” SURE. “Wax.”
I read somewhere that the denial of subtext is one of the great unidentified characteristics of the Mormon church
Got it. I think I misunderstood the nature of what a temple actually is. There are a good number of Mormons here but it’s not anywhere near as heavy a population as Utah. Thanks for spreading knowledge about stuff! (I’m learning so many things in the link roundups this week. Baseball and Mormonism, man.)
If you want to know anything else! My husband left the fold when he was seven or so, when his parents divorced. His mum had it written into the custody agreement that he got to choose if he wanted to continue, and as he says that even as a kid he could see how he didn’t want anything to do with it. His father and a lot of the family still practice, and they suuuure like to judge him for not!
Has he been excluded from a lot of that side of the family’s social activities? One of the biggest impressions I’ve gotten of Mormonism is how ingrained the social side of the equation is with the religious side, which I’m sure makes leaving a lot harder (by design, I’d guess?).
Oh yeah, not that we’d particularly want to participate though – there’s a lot of estrangement. The lifestyle is so, so different from our own that it is really alien, and there’s very little cross over. He has a great story of, before I knew him, being invited to a cousin”s temple wedding in Utah (we’re up in BC) and going down with his mum and step dad. They can’t go to the wedding – because it is in the temple – and his step dad and him are like “bogus” and go skiing. They get caught up in a storm and end attending the wedding reception in their ski gear, as they don’t have time to get to the hotel. Seeing how the religion has played out in his family, and the institutionalized misogyny and racism of it as well, has left him very hostile to the faith, which is about where I am with it too. We don’t mind the exclusion.
We do get invited to weddings, with the understanding that it would likely play out like the above. Our own was so small we hardly invited anyone, and most of the Mormons ducked out really early (they were very inexpensive guests, what with the no drinking though).
Please continue showing up at Mormon wedding receptions in ski gear forever though.
Yeah you have to do this intense interviews to get a temple recommend. My husband’s cousin and wife failed because they had premarital sex (with each other, even!) The temple is set up to look like the three layers of Mormon heaven, and only the best ones get to go (and only the best Mormons get to go to best heaven).
But, if you go to Temple Square in SLC, they have a cut-away model of the Temple in the Visitor Center, so you can learn all about the architecture of it. You just have to be able to duck the missionaries.
I just found this out and I think it is relevant to The Toast’s interests: Leonard Cohen is releasing a new album next month. http://www.rollingstone.com/music/news/leonard-co…
THANKS
I don’t know if it’s relevant to the Toast’s interest, but it is certainly relevant to MY interests!
Further report, having listened to “Almost Like The Blues” at the Rolling Stone link: magnificent, in a very Leonard Cohen stab-you-in-the-heart way. Content note: murder, rape, war, genocide. Lyrics here.
YESS
And he does look remarkably like a tortoise these days, doesn’t he.
AHHH! i hadn’t heard anything about this! thank you!
LEONARD!!! Thanks! He is the bestest little turtle! I tear up every time I hear the one live version of Anthem, where he begins (something like), ‘Friends, we are so privileged to gather here together tonight when so much of the world is plunged in darkness and chaos’. Yes.
Seriously, your parents are grown-ups and can make their own decisions! And after hearing horror stories about people who’ve made it clear they don’t want to be kept alive artificially, only to have their children go against those wishes, I’m not trusting my hypothetical kids to do anything for me ever.
My mother, who lived in North St. Louis county in the 60s (and is an immigrant from Europe), sent me this NYT opinion piece last night, with this caveat: “It comes the closest [to explaining the weird way St. Louis is set up, and how this has contributed to the situation in Ferguson], but it doesn’t really get at the rest of the County’s unwillingness to consolidate and let go of the caste system that permeates that city. The disparity of quality of education is something those in the south and the west part of the county tacitly and stubbornly maintained for decades.”
http://www.nytimes.com/2014/08/18/opinion/in-ferg…
Anyway, I though the Toast would be interested in this, because it provides a bit more context for what’s going on in Ferguson/Greater St. Louis right now. (Not excuses. Context.)
Thanks for sharing this! Political structures of towns and the like can vary so much from region to region, or metro area to metro area, so this kind of context is very helpful. I didn’t realize that Ferguson’s demographics had shifted so recently, even though all of the indicators like political leadership had pointed to that.
I would love to see some articles about Professional Mormon Enthusiasts (Enthusiasting?) here on The Toast. Also an article about your visit to the Ogden Temple Open House. I’m a native Utahn transitioning out of Mormonism and can answer all your questions. Or explain the mysterious allure of green jello and funeral potatoes. Or just shut up and read the article and cheer silently in my cubicle. Whatever. I’m not picky.
Oh, yes, please write a thing! Explain green jello, please! Also why Mormons wear shirts under their dresses, instead of just buying clothes with sleeves on them to start with? Also why there is a river running through the mall? Also did you start drinking as part of your transitioning out, and if so, is it challenging to learn about alcohol as an adult? And are your parents getting shit from the Church because you leaving? Why are all of the place names in Utah such literal descriptions (This is the Place Park?!)? What the fuck is with Mormons and beehives? What are the stereotypes/hidden meanings surrounding who goes on what mission where?
I am not megang, but I am also a native Utahn transitioning out of Mormonism and can answer some of those!
1- No idea. Most people my age don’t really eat/make it. It’s an older generation thing.
2- As someone who used to do that, it’s really really really hard sometimes to find nice looking clothes that have enough sleeves and length to the knees to cover the temple garments (“Mormon underwear”). It gets…really warm in summer wearing a layer of garments (basically a cap-sleeve t-shirt and knee-length boxer-briefs), a t-shirt to make sure your garments are covered, and THEN your normal clothes. A popular saying among Mormon girls is “modest is hottest,” meaning if you dress modestly you are more attractive 😐 There are actual companies founded on the whole layering t-shirt trend for Mormon ideals of modesty.
3- City Creek Mall? Ugh. Don’t get me started on the fact that the church built a mall in the first place.
4- I don’t really drink still. I guess when you spend all of your high school/college/grad school years without having so much as a sip of alcohol, and you didn’t grow up around a lot of drinking, it’s hard to get in to. Plus most of my close friends are still pretty Mormon, and my husband is uncomfortable with drinking. Basically I split a beer with my brother when we go to soccer games, and that’s about it.
5- Nobody really gives people shit, per say, when their children leave the church. It’s more like pity or sympathy, because it is more heartbreaking for faithful parents than anything. It hasn’t really changed my relationship with my mom, who is a very good person. My relationship with my dad is weird, but for other reasons.
6- My friend jokes that anything in Utah (streets, companies, parks, festivals) are all named either Heritage or Legacy. We are obsessed with the pioneers (I am somewhat guilty, I was married at the historic mill my 5th great grandfather built with Brigham Young). This Is the Place Park is where Brigham first entered the valley and said “This is the place.” I guess we are not very creative.
7- Another pioneer throwback. Pioneers loved the symbol of the beehive as a group of people working together to build something, I guess?
8- There is SO MUCH fervor over predicting mission calls. At my mom’s encouragement, I got my passport before I submitted my mission application, because we’d heard that it increased the chances of being called to a foreign country. I had even heard that foreign calls were heavier than stateside calls (more paperwork included in the packet) so when my call came in the mail, I paid close attention to the postage to see if it was more than my brother’s recent stateside call. I had 5 years of German in high school and college, and therefore no one (including me) thought that I’d go to a German speaking mission. It never seemed to go that way. But then I was called to Germany, so? There are some stereotypes, but most people who serve missions realize that there are lazy, smart, dumb, and diligent missionaries in every mission.
I endorse Beeper Queen’s answers, and will add my own thoughts (by the way, Beeper Queen, you sound awesome).
(1) Green jello and funeral potatoes (the most often derided Utah foods) are very much holdovers from the older generation, but I love them! Funeral potatoes are so good. And so bad for you. And so good. My sister-in-law’s grandma served her children green jello mixed with canned chicken when she was raising her kids. My sister in law brings it up every so often so we can laugh about it, usually around Thanksgiving when my mom makes a layered jello salad in all colors of the rainbow (a bit ironic, yes). So yeah, green jello seems to be something of a holdover for those who survived the Depression and ate mostly things that they could store and that were also cheap.
(2) I agree with the Beeper Queen. Sleeves aren’t enough to cover the temple garments! I stopped wearing t-shirts under sleeveless things when I was fourteen because I knew it looked tacky, but I still wear those modesty shirts Mormon women love (I have big boobs and my cleavage can be a bit uncomfortable to flash at my conservative workplace). Even shirts that you’d think would cover your garments often don’t, and having your garments peek out from underneath your clothes is a big no-no, to the point where strangers point it out to you.
(3) City Creek Mall: Built to keep the poors away from Temple Square. Because Christians (Not all Christians! I know!)
(4) I still don’t drink possibly because I really have no idea how or what or why or with whom but also because of mental illness and medication and the fear that my highly addictive personality will like alcohol a little bit too much. So your question has definitely occurred to me and I don’t have an answer. I went on a mission to Italy so I can see myself really getting into wine…
(5) No shit from the Church, as I haven’t made it official. And I don’t think anyone is going to get any flak if I do leave officially (basically, that means that I send in a letter of resignation to LDS headquarters and have my records expunged) except for me getting lots of anonymous smiley-face nice-notes slid under my front door telling them how much I’m missed. Which, in the scheme of things, really isn’t so bad.
(6) I really have no idea, but Beeper Queen’s answer makes sense. We love our pioneers. Seriously. They were pretty bad ass.
(7) Beehives are symbols of industriousness, business, working together, and families. Mormons love all those things. It’s a symbol from the pioneer days of the Church.
(8) IDK about this either because I have always hated stereotypes and refused to give them credence. I’ve noticed that sometimes mission calls run in the family (not officially). I went to Italy and tons of other missionaries had dads or moms or siblings who had also been missionaries in Italy. I studied Italian for two years before I decided to go on a mission, and that may have had something to do with where I was sent.
Missionaries with specific medical conditions are usually kept within North America.
The biggest stereotype I know of is getting called to the Pocatello, Idaho mission. Again, IDK why, because all missions are pretty much the same work (I say this laughing because I went to Italy and ate tons of gelato and pizza and walked by naked statues on the daily).
You sound like the best. Please tell me you still live in Utah so we can be friends!
When I am 91 I am going to eat every fucking piece of pizza and bowl of ice cream I can get my hands on. And woe betide any who attempt to stand in my way.
Seriously. I keep thinking of Alan Arkin in Little Miss Sunshine gleefully adopting a heroin habit in his dotage. “You’re stupid to do this stuff when you’re young. But I’m old, who gives a shit.”
ETA: Of course, then he dies. So. Mixed bag, that.
Why wait until then? Life is short. Eat what makes you feel good.
Just making the rounds: Sybrina Fulton’s letter to Mike Brown’s parents – http://time.com/3136685/travyon-sybrina-fulton-fe…
When my abuela was told that she had developed diabetes and should not eat sweets, she responded. “I am eighty years old. I have lupus and congestive heart failure. I survived Franco and Castro, and I’m going to eat whatever I want.” Orale.
They are currently trying to limit the sugar intake of my husband’s 95-year-old, dementia-ridden grandmother. Every time he sees her, she asks for sweets. The last time he went to visit, I made her a chocolate cake (she doesn’t know who I am and my presence upsets her, so I don’t go with him). She was overjoyed.
IMO, very old people, (especially this current crop, who survived the twentieth century) are allowed to eat or smoke whatever they want.
Word. Towards the end my grandmother would basically only eat ice cream topped with whipped cream, and would drink only Baileys, and frankly, good for her. When she was at the hospital after a terrible fall (so terrible I will not tell you about it) at 98, her nurse told me that he was pretty sure that most of her calories (totally needed for healing) were coming from Baileys, and he was just glad she was getting calories at all.
I had a college interview with a couple of guys from a Utah-based company. They were really more interested in the fact that I was a single mother, and they wondered if I wanted more children. They asked to see a picture of my daughter. They asked, how important was family to me? They didn’t ask to see my resume, nor did they ask any other questions.
My friends, who had also interviewed with this company, were given a technical test and were grilled about their work experience and the courses they took.
I told my friends about my peculiar interview. They said, “well, Mormons.” Like a Lutheran girl from a town of 139 people knows anything … okay, I’ll stop right there, anything I say will just sound bad.
If I had known what the questions were about, I would have gladly shared the state of my fecundity and that yes, my body was made for birthing babies. *Made* for it.
Those questions are illegal. I’m sure you know that. But they do serve as a warning.
When I was in my 30s I was asked in a job interview how many children I had. This question came after I had decided this job was *not* for me. It was just one more red flag, though the biggest and reddest.
I answered: “I have 21 children and they need me right now.” Then I walked out.
Yeah, I didn’t answer the questions, I gave them a dead eye stare. They persisted with the questions, however, and *flirted with me*. They found out I was a single parent from one of my friends who’d been interviewed before me; it wasn’t something I mentioned. They apparently had never met a Swedish/Norwegian woman who would blatantly refuse to answer personal questions, based on long and glorious cultural customs. (What’s your name? I’ll tell you that, it isn’t too personal, but walks the line.)
After all these years though, I have to laugh. I was being sized up for my ability to get pregnant and give birth to future generations of Mormons, f*** the law. Holy Crap on Things.
I can’t believe I didn’t violently disagree with anything Prudie said today. Although I would have suggested getting that kid in the last letter into therapy because if you don’t get a handle on him now you are going to pay for it when he hits puberty.
Oh, and I don’t know why they just don’t buy the guy his own damn box of Neapolitan? Or maybe lw needs to get their own box. I know it doesn’t teach him anything but it could possibly save lw’s sanity.
The article about Bob Lambert was really jarring due to these sections:
She made a pot of coffee and took it out to the garden with the Daily Mail.
“I don’t read the Guardian—nobody I know reads the Guardian,” she said.
A left-wing former protester reads the Daily Mail, and knows no Guardian readers? Is this Opposite Land?
For a while I had my voicemail set up such that different numbers got different outgoing messages. Unrecognized numbers got generic voicemail, my close friends/family got personalized ones. At least once I had someone call because she needed to hear someone say they loved her, and even though it was late, she knew my voicemail would say that to her (I actually answered the phone that time, which surprised her).
YES yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes yes
That's a lovely idea! And I'm glad your friend was able to get through to you.
When are they going to Mount Bananarama for the finals? I never get control of the remote and I really want her to crush it.
As of today, the video ads are auto-playing when a page loads! Unexpected! Unpleasant! I’m using Chrome on a Mac and haven’t changed my settings–is this on your end?
Definitely go to that temple opening! I was raised in a weird bible belt section of suburban Vancouver, and the Mormons built a temple there a few years ago. I totally went to the opening they had and it is SO WEIRD AND GREAT. The room where they baptize people has a huge pool balanced on the backs of four life-sized oxen! The marriage rooms have crazy painted murals instead of wallpaper. It’s bonkers and fantastic. Then when the tour is over you get to watch a sweet video that advertises Mormonism and includes a pitch about your possible celestial real-estate. A++ would tour again
What, no climbing comments? But Climbing! So awesome!
In addition to being way more interesting than weight-lifting (IMO), it gives you a good reason to travel to faraway places like the southwest coast of Thailand, where you will climb all day, and then sit on the beach at sundown and drink a beer and watch beautiful Australian men play pickup volleyball (and get their asses kicked by the Thai guys).
Random fact: I already knew about the Fark thing because some anti-feminist was using me to argue against the guideline. Hello, ragey incoming links.
I like when my mother calls to say hi, and my father bellows HELLO from across the room as she's leaving me a message.
(Actually, my parents call to say, "hello, lovely daughter!" It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.)
When I’m 90, I hope to still be as badass as this lady:
“We need to stand up today so that people won’t have to do this when they’re 90.”
That lady brought tears to my eyes.
“This is some police bullshit. And I know from police bullshit.”
My anaesthetist brother specialises in the childbirth end if things because (and I quote) "there is no gratitude like that of a woman in child birth whose pain you have just taken away".
Ah! I do that too! Especially if patients on the phone are getting ornery and rude. I call it my flight attendant voice. It's, theoretically, more difficult for people to curse you out when you simper sweetly at them.
Sometimes when people are awful, though. I just "…." at them, and let their last ringing insult just echo on the phone line until everyone involved feels awkward and uncomfortable.
I hate phones.
Teeniboppers are the best
That lady brought tears to my eyes.
I’m currently on a working holiday on the family farm and my father brings me a hot chocolate and cooked breakfast every morning. I have eaten more breakfasts this week than in the last two years. I WILL NEVER LEAVE
I endorse Beeper Queen’s answers, and will add my own thoughts (by the way, Beeper Queen, you sound awesome).
(1) Green jello and funeral potatoes (the most often derided Utah foods) are very much holdovers from the older generation, but I love them! Funeral potatoes are so good. And so bad for you. And so good. My sister-in-law’s grandma served her children green jello mixed with canned chicken when she was raising her kids. My sister in law brings it up every so often so we can laugh about it, usually around Thanksgiving when my mom makes a layered jello salad in all colors of the rainbow (a bit ironic, yes). So yeah, green jello seems to be something of a holdover for those who survived the Depression and ate mostly things that they could store and that were also cheap.
(2) I agree with the Beeper Queen. Sleeves aren’t enough to cover the temple garments! I stopped wearing t-shirts under sleeveless things when I was fourteen because I knew it looked tacky, but I still wear those modesty shirts Mormon women love (I have big boobs and my cleavage can be a bit uncomfortable to flash at my conservative workplace). Even shirts that you’d think would cover your garments often don’t, and having your garments peek out from underneath your clothes is a big no-no, to the point where strangers point it out to you.
(3) City Creek Mall: Built to keep the poors away from Temple Square. Because Christians (Not all Christians! I know!)
(4) I still don’t drink possibly because I really have no idea how or what or why or with whom but also because of mental illness and medication and the fear that my highly addictive personality will like alcohol a little bit too much. So your question has definitely occurred to me and I don’t have an answer. I went on a mission to Italy so I can see myself really getting into wine…
(5) No shit from the Church, as I haven’t made it official. And I don’t think anyone is going to get any flak if I do leave officially (basically, that means that I send in a letter of resignation to LDS headquarters and have my records expunged) except for me getting lots of anonymous smiley-face nice-notes slid under my front door telling them how much I’m missed. Which, in the scheme of things, really isn’t so bad.
(6) I really have no idea, but Beeper Queen’s answer makes sense. We love our pioneers. Seriously. They were pretty bad ass.
(7) Beehives are symbols of industriousness, business, working together, and families. Mormons love all those things. It’s a symbol from the pioneer days of the Church.
(8) IDK about this either because I have always hated stereotypes and refused to give them credence. I’ve noticed that sometimes mission calls run in the family (not officially). I went to Italy and tons of other missionaries had dads or moms or siblings who had also been missionaries in Italy. I studied Italian for two years before I decided to go on a mission, and that may have had something to do with where I was sent.
Missionaries with specific medical conditions are usually kept within North America.
The biggest stereotype I know of is getting called to the Pocatello, Idaho mission. Again, IDK why, because all missions are pretty much the same work (I say this laughing because I went to Italy and ate tons of gelato and pizza and walked by naked statues on the daily).