What the? vol. 2

In the department of "problems I didn't know I have, solutions I don't want", my friend Jen shared a link to this website. That's right, P-Mate USA has finally brought a product to market that helps a woman (I assume; I guess men could use it too) pee standing up. Peeing standing up has never been an aspiration of mine, so I guess I was never really looking for this product. But I want to keep an open mind, so I've created my own FAQ about this product:

1. Why? Some women want to pee standing up. Also, some women find it hard to squat down to pee. Others don't like to hover over dirty toilets in the Port Authority. Fair enough. The pictures on the website show adventurous women, setting off on hikes, bike riding, looking at the Jersey City skyline - you know, adventure stuff.

2. But if they feel awkward squatting down in the tall grass to pee, how much easier will it be to stand upright with a little origami penis sticking out of their pants? It won't be. In fact, adventure women are unlikely to need this product. Adventure women love to do the wild wee. UNLESS THEY DON'T HAVE KNEES. That's right. It's hard to squat if you don't have knees, so this product is for you, adventurous kneeless women. God bless ya! Get out there!

3. Does it really constitute an endorsement if

Ellen DeGeneres Emmy-winning host of The Ellen DeGeneres Show was gifted a pack of P-Mates backstage at the 2009 GLAAD AWARDS on Saturday, April 18th at the Nokia Theater in Los Angeles.

I'm gonna say, no, it doesn't.

4. How do I dispose of this product? Apparently you can recycle this item, but I am sobered by the thought of the Waste Management employee considering which pile a damp, smelly triangle of badness should be thrown into. Which strongly suggests that this should be composted instead.

5. No seriously, who uses it? From a close reading of the website, and in particular the testimonials and photos pages, the answer is: Europeans and people at Burning Man, which means the same thing. No one has ever accused me of being either, so I will get back to work on my patent for a compostable upright urination device.

Some Days, You Get a Little Gift

The Tree Sitters are being fined for the costs associated with their nasty little public disturbance. You remember the Tree Sitters: I blogged about them here and here. You'll need to chuckle for a moment, because my next Berkeley story may make you sick to your stomach.

A woman I work with (who lives in Bkly) has a unit on her property that she rents to another woman. Let's call the first woman "A" and the second woman "B". In preparing to have the unit renovated, A learned that B was a horder, and it took some doing to get the place cleared out enough to have the work done. Fast forward. After completing recent electrical work, the electrician reports to A that she has some water damage below her bathroom. A calls the plumber. The plumber investigates, and notifies A that the toilet has not been used for years. Literally years. The toilet is bone dry, most of the works are missing from the tank, and the rubber pieces have cracked and crumbled from years of aridity.

What's that about? Where's the, you know, everything?

As for my annual Burning Man screed: I am worried about my blood pressure, and if I write about such infuriating topics I might burst a blood vessel. But you can find earlier posts here. I will tell you this: I was talking to a woman who works for a high profile, well-regarded non-profit which works to safeguard the Constitution (hint: it rhymes with A-C-L-goo) and she told me that they went to Burning Man to protect free speech. That galls me more than their defense of Nazis and guns. Of course, no one there wanted to trample free speech because people who hate free speech don't want to poop in the desert with idiots all week, so they were sort of bored. She did feel that they did protect the 4th Amendment, since drug busts are the primary occupation of law enforcement at the Festival. Which makes sense, since drugs, and not "free speech", are the point of that stupid affair.

Why I Hate the Things I Hate

UPDATED at 11:44 a.m. (I KNEW I could count on Ella to help me out here)

BD and I are going to NYC this weekend, and he wants to take in a play (I hear that’s what you do when you go to a play – you “take it in”), and that got my thinking about how much I hate plays. And then my cousin mentioned that he knew I hate plaintiffs’ attorneys (which I don’t), and I thought: There’s a lot of misinformation out there about what I hate and why. This calls for a blog post.

1. Theater – Its true; I hate Theater. This is based on my dual aversions to strong emotions and bad acting. I am not crazy about Art Films for the same reason. Mind you, I am not a stoic. I feel emotions very strongly. Plus I am the Queen of Willing Suspension of Disbelief, which means I feel strong emotions very easily. But afterwards, after I have cried and feel all emotionally wrung out, I feel used and a little dirty. For example, I cried through all of Little Man Tate. I just felt like an ass after that. Really? Little Man Tate? I feel like a cry-whore just remembering it. Okay, so that’s not Theater, and its not Art Film, so my point isn’t being made very well. BUT. My first roommate in college starred in a production of Agnes of God, which was both Theater and Art Film, and I felt like crap after watching it. Big Themes, Moving Story, Heartfelt Performances. Yuck.
2. Soup – I have a love/hate relationship with soup. I will eat soup and often think that a specific soup tastes good. But I don’t think soup is a meal and it annoys me when people treat it like a meal. I do hate cold soup. Just the word Gazpacho makes me feel a little sick to my stomach. On the other hand, I like the soup party. A part of me wishes that we had an annual pulled pork party instead, but you take your husband for richer and for poorer, for soup and for pork.
   
3. Sandwiches – This is a corollary hatred. I don’t think sandwiches are a meal. I also think they have too much bread (no matter how little bread they have). That said, I eat sandwiches almost every day, because even the popularity of the Atkins diet has not convinced me that its acceptable to eat just salami and cheese right off your lap with your fingers.
4. Burning Man
5. Berkeley - there are too many posts to even add one single link here. If you need evidence, just look there to the right and read the categories Bay Area, things that annoy me, and BPN. Smile Rockridge might have some material on this particular hatred, but it would be a more general dislike of things that are Berkeley-esque, as opposed to be specifically about Berkeley.
   
6. Baby Boomers
7. Sideways
8. Chinese Food: Its not Asian food that I hate, its Chinese food. Because I love Japanese and Indian, and occasionally crave Thai. I am not crazy about Korean food, but the issue just doesn't come up that much. But Chinese food is shorthand for "don't feel like cooking, don't feel like eating out", and it almost universally has too much sauce on it. Goopy sauce. Dare I say, it's soupy sauce. Also, my mom dated a Chinese man for several years and I ate a lot of Chinese food during that period and I feel like I had my lifetime supply already.
   
9. Short Stories: Yeah, its true. I think that this is due in part to the Theater/Art Film phenom, which is that short stories are intended to Make a Point, usually by being shocking or sad. When they are funny, they are essays, not short stories (see David Sedaris and Ian Frazier, both of whom I like). I like long books, because if you see something sad coming, you can either put the book down for a little while until you are ready to deal with it, or the book keeps going after that, so you know that not everyone will be dead at the end.
   

Escalating Stupidity

I was thinking the other day that I hadn't posted about inanities of Berkeley lately. I don't have to go there very often now that L doesn't go to Broccoli Montessori. I can't even bear to read the Berkeley Parents Network Advice newsletters because they are all so long and redundant (does every new mother need to despair that her 3 week old nurses too much/little, poops too much/little, sleeps too much/little? and can't every new mother just read the voluminous back issues for their answer?).

That leaves only the mainstream local press as a source of Berkeley news, and I don't see much of that. Oh, except for the tree sitters. Here's the latest. Several folks were arrested yesterday. According to a man named "Ayr" (it took me a sec to get that too):

"We went to deliver sage and tobacco and water to the tree-sitters, because we had heard earlier that (police) were denying them food and water and threatening people helping them with arrest," Ayr said. "We got the stuff up to them and we were doing some chants and songs when one of the tree-sitters came down and started cutting the fence."

Ayr said the group included Native Americans who believe that the grove was a burial ground for Ohlone Indians. UC anthropologists have said there is no evidence that is true.

I don't think we need an anthropologist to tell us how the grove grows, if I can paraphrase. Remember:

All but a few of the trees were planted by the university after the stadium was built in 1923.

This is all such a tremendous waste of trust fund dollars. These tree sitters could be planning their next Burning Man project if they weren't busy spilling buckets of urine and feces all other eachother. Or (*snap*) maybe that's IT! This will be great at Burning Man! I mean it's no suicide, but it could really work! (whisper whisper) They've already spilled buckets of urine and feces on eachother at Burning Man? Hmmm. Okay, back to Ye Olde Oak Grove. . .

Black Hole for Your Soul

I hate Burning Man so much that I usually don't even write about it. But a guy committed suicide by hanging this week at Burning Man this week, and revelers below him didn't tell officials for two hours because they assumed that it was an art piece. That festival is such a complete vaccuum of humanity.

I realize that I am sounding more conservative with each post but the squandary* of energy and morality that is pwogwessive politics and culture these days irritates me beyond explanation.

Speaking of "Art", there's a group of artists who have a web project "which aims to buy Google with funds generated via Adsense." Now THAT'S Art.

*I made up this word.

Fresh Outrage

For those of you who are not networked in with other Berkeley parents, I know you look to me to generate appropriate anger over the lost sheep of the East Bay. I've tackled milk several times. Today's newletter brings answers to the following two queries (summarized):

1. Should I bring my kids to Burning Man?

2. Should I let my brother-in-law, who is the caregiver - nay, manny - of my young daughter, deal pot out of my house?

Now here's my question:

3. How off-kilter is your moral compass that you need to appeal to your neighbors to answer those questions? And why would you? Aren't these the kinds of things we used to hide from one another?

So how do the Berkeley Parents fare in answering? To their credit, it's pretty unanimously agreed that the manny should not be allowed to deal. But that doesn't take a PhD in philosophy or social welfare to get right. The BM question gets a split vote: one "leave the kids at home", one "take them to the Family Camp", and one "wait til their older". Annoying there is not "Burning Man is stupid and people who attend should not be allowed to breed" response. Hmm, we'll have to work on that.

The Most Senseless and Awful Thing I Have Seen This Week (well, almost)

You must be wondering: What is more senseless and awful than the destruction wrought by Hurricane Katrina (and the willful ignorance of generations of politicians/governments, etc etc)?

Answer: A Burning Man attendee trying to justify why he had fun at the festival, despite Katrina.