Humor

Do you want to play Barbies with me?

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Recently my sister reminded me about how much I used to love my Barbie dolls as a kid. I would bug her endlessly by asking her if she wanted to play Barbies with me. She could not stand playing with my Barbies and did not pretend to enjoy it, and yet I still always asked. Sometimes I think she just could not stand to hear me ask again and would cave in and play, and other times I think my mom told her she had to play with me.

Ah, Barbies. It makes me laugh that I was so addicted. I can remember that I had about 10 different Barbies, a cardboard-esque townhouse, a car (but not THE Barbie corvette – I had the knockoff version), and the beauty salon. I can remember the beauty salon. It had a special marker that you used to color Barbie’s hair, and then you could put her in a seat that somehow piped water thorough this straw thing to wash her hair. What a mess. What I learned the hard way was that you should never cut Barbie’s hair. It does not grow back, nor does it grow like human hair.

Barbie’s clothes were also impossible to put on at times. I can remember I had one Ken doll for my 10 Barbies. He had two outfits; a white tuxedo, and workout clothes. The tuxedo pants would not go on or off without my putting baby powder on his legs and in the pants. I guess you get crafty when you have to!

I am no longer a Barbie girl. It makes me laugh to think back to little me, and then to me today.

Know my thoughts, not my bra size

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Ah reminiscing. Over the weekend I went through a file folder of writing from childhood through to college. I came across a packet of writing from May 2000. It is a compilation from a woman’s writing class by all the women in the class. One of the exercises, I believe (based on the result), was writing our “woman seeking” ad. Here is my ad from 2000:

“single, white, midwest female seeking: single man who is not afraid of short hair or loud voices, who can listen and share, who is CLEAN and knows how to cook, who likes to sleep and demands comfy beds, who would rather know my thoughts than my bra size, who wants to influence this world, knows how to change a diaper, and can cuddle all day long.”

I laughed out loud when I read it. Then I found Chris and read it to him. See, it is a perfect fit. How did I ever know three years earlier that I would find my single man who loves to cook, sleep, cuddle? Who not only knows how to cook, but loves to, and he listens, shares, and definitely cares more about my thoughts, and just laughs at my bra size. I have seen him change diapers, but know once that day comes he will sleep less, continue to cook, and we will listen and share with that little one together.

Maybe now I should write an ad for what I want my next ten years to be like. If it comes anywhere close to what my senior year of college mindset gave me, life will be bliss.

#womenswritingrocks

Oh how I hate hold music.

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How often do you call your cable company, or your credit card company and either have to listen to a zillion annoying little prompts to get to where you want to go, or you wait on the line for what feels like eternity only to listen to their hold music?

I can adamantly say that I have never once said to anyone: “Oh, xxxx company has the most amazing hold music.” Why is that? Why is waiting on hold to be helped so excruciatingly painful? Do they hope that most of us will hang up the phone out of boredom, anguish, and insanity and instead go online and send them an email? I try to do that as much as possible, but there are just certain things that need to be handled by a live person. I will give you a few examples:

_When your cable company (ahem, Comcast) continues to screw up your bill every month since you moved in 10 months ago. No email will ever be able to truly shed light on your true frustration, only duking it out with a live person will hopefully grant you the discounts and offers you deserve.

_Anything having to do with financial information, credit cards, and bank accounts should be handled online. Yes I am old school. I prefer a live person to mess up my account, then a live person behind an email. At least I can ask for my phone call to be escalated, and hopefully my phone call was “recorded for quality purposes.”

_You enjoy connecting with other people, making their day, and generally being the world’s nicest customer. I know a few people who fit that description, and they are the cream of the crop. If only we could have their patience.

I digress. This all started out being about hold music. I still do not understand why they have not invented hold music that connects you to Pandora or Spotify and lets you jam to your current selection. Maybe customer service representatives will find their customers happier, more patient, and generally not going insane by hearing the same song for the 37 minutes they waited on hold. Of course that song was interspersed with a few ads for lower interest rates, or how you could be saved money, with the additional message of how many other customers are in front of you in the queue.

#needmorepatience4holdmusic

This girl kicks ass.

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This video is making it around the Internet this week. I love it. Long live aunt flo! How easily I can remember fourth or fifth grade when we had “sex ed” and learned all about aunt flo. If only we had such a bad ass video at the time to feel empowered about the changes that were about to or were happening to us. I most vividly remember a video we watched on a film strip about finding out you had your period for the first time, and the emotional foreshadowing was of such gloom. Will anyone find out? Will the boys know? Who cares.

I only hope this video will empower girls to feel fierce, free, and normal about their period. The video below is called: “The Camp Gyno.” It is from a company called: “Hello Flo.” Such a clever idea to help girls acclimate into the world of womanhood. You will laugh, I promise you. This girl is hilarious, she takes getting your period to a whole new level. One of my favorite lines is: “It is like Santa for your vagina.” Be sure to check out the blog on their website. There are some fun and clever videos, and content that demystify “the period” for a girl.

This could mean a menstrual revolution. Bring it on!

Words that make you squirm

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Moist. Moist. Moist. It does it for me. It adds many grotesque images to my thought. Yuck. Yuck. Yuck. Hole. Crevice. Crotch. Pus. The list could go on. Why, oh why do these words give us such visual images in our thoughts? Why do they cause us to cringe and vomit in our mouths? Maybe it is the connotation of these words. Many of them have to do with body parts, discharge, leakage, etc. They do not bring great visuals to thought (more of the excrement variety) yet how have we become so tainted with visuals?

Recently I found this blog about the word moist and I laughed hysterically. Such a great post sharing all the different nuances for “moist.” Moist cake, damp, wet, the list goes on. But worst (yes, worst of all) is when I hear someone say, “moist panties.” I know it is a joke. I know it is just to mess with me, but it makes me quiver with disgust (even if I do chuckle a bit inside). Not what you expected in a random olio blog post? Well it is random, and it does happen, sometimes you just have to think of the stuff that goes unsaid. Yes, I am the one that just says what is on my mind.

This “Guardian” article mentions a few other words that make folks grossed out, but none of them really make me shudder. Phlegm does not bring the best visual to mind, but that is only after reading David Sedaris recent book “Let’s Explore Diabetes with Owls” where he talks about the nature of phlegm in China, where it is everywhere — the subway walls, streets, you name it. His description is hilarious. So much so, that I read it out loud to Chris to see if it resembled his experience during his many trips to China.

I guess it all depends on what era you grew up in, as this NPR article lists moist, phlegm, and slacks as the worst words ever. Slacks? Seriously? It is not the 1950’s. My grandma abhorred wearing slacks until her final years, as though it was a sin to be able to just be comfortable, right? I guess I will have to create a better word for moist, since I live in one of the moistest climates in the US, and there are days and weeks that it is never dry. While we do not have that gross, moist, humidity, it seems like that word is just part of the Portland vernacular.

What words gross you out and leave visual imprints in your mind?