Fat (female) hipsters: Do they exist?

I want to be a hipster.  Bad.  I mean, REALLY bad.  But before I make the conversion to hipster, I need more information.  What is a hipster?  Thanks to www.UrbanDictionary.com, I have (could pick from several) my (two favorite) definitions (created by people like you and me):

"The term "hipster" is cross-applied from the 1930s Beatniks. The modern hipster is a composite of individuals with a certain bohemian life situation and lifestyle..."

Stop.  You had me at "bohemian". 

"Definitions are too mainstream. Hipster's can't be defined because then they'd fit in a category, and thus be too mainstream."
 
Another definition had something about Pabst Blue Ribbon, so I'm drinking that now, too. 

So, I started thinking about what I would wear/how I would change my wardrobe, and it occurred to me:  I've never seen a fat hipster.  Googling "Fat Hipster" yielded some entertaining and some disturbing results.  One page compares them to unicorns while another refers to them as hippo-sters. 

And, although I'd like to be this unicorn he speaks of, I would probably be more of the hippo-ster and wind up on www.peopleofwalmart.com.  You know?

I could, however, take the advice of one commenter and "either join a gym, get on drugs, or drop the cupcakes cuz it's not working with your poor downtown eighties look..." 

Um.  Joining a gym is expensive, and dropping a cupcake is just another mess for me to clean.  Looks like I'm stuck with cocaine.  Does anyone even "do" cocaine anymore?  (I'm pretty old.  In fact, I won't fit the age demo for hipster much longer)

Recap:

Bohemian - Check
Shops at Goodwill - Check
Rejects mainstream - Check
Pabst Blue Ribbon - Check
Cocaine - Checking
Ironic t-shirt - Googling (Or I was until my SIL told me that Googling is completely mainstream, so I grabbed an encyclopedia instead)

And found this: 

HOW IRONIC IS THAT?!?!  A fat hipster chic (me) wearing a shirt about fat people.  OMG.  Let THAT swim around in your head!

BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUT when I went to order it (by mail, with a check, of course), I was like, WHAAAAAAAT?  

 

 

Ugh.  Gender Biases are so mainstream.  Get with it, people!

 

Conclusion:

 

Fat female hipsters do NOT exist because they aren't allowed to.  Because ironic t-shirts only come in S, M, and L.  Fat male hipsters, are totally allowed. 

Death by dryer sheets and Humpty Dance

I had four, count them FOUR, topics to blog about before I made it to my parking garage at work.  Here are the first two, combined for your enjoyment.

A friend of mine is trying to kill me with dryer sheets.  If I didn't have a "don't use people's names on my blog" policy, I'd tell you who so when I die you can tell the police, but alas...

It's true.  When I told her this morning that dryer sheets are toxic and they are Killing us Slowly (...Strumming my pants with its fragrance...Stealing my life with its scent...killing me slowly with its Linalool killing me sloooowlyyy...) she insisted I provide sources for my claim:
 
http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-504763_162-20097302-10391704.html

http://www.holistichealthsecrets.com/alternativehealth/main-content/the-toxic-dangers-of-dryer-sheets-and-fabric-softeners/

http://ecowatch.com/2013/why-you-need-to-ditch-dryer-sheets/

http://healthylivinghowto.com/1/post/2013/04/healthy-body-7-toxic-reasons-to-ditch-dryer-sheets.html

http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/new-study-scented-dryer-sheets-159942

Claim: Sourced.  Now to my friend's arguement.  It was basically this: They can't be toxic.  The Government wouldn't allow companies to use the ingredients if they were bad for us.

Seriously?

Um...

Mmmhmmm.

Whaaa?



*disappointed stare*

Really?

Grrr.

Moving on...The Humpty Dance came on 90's on 9 this morning, and I couldn't bring myself to change the station.  I just couldn't.  What's WRONG with me?

Seriously.

Toyota Will Donate One Meal for Every View This Video Gets

I have completely blown my "One Serious Post Per Year" goal.  Oh well. 

This video is absolutely AMAZING!  Watch and learn and volunteer, y'all!  Jesus' message to help the needy was very clear, and these folks are very clearly doing it, now, in a most efficient way! 

Kudos to Toyota for sharing their knowledge and their resources! 
 
Toyota Will Donate One Meal To The New York Food Bank For Every View This Video Gets | The Nonsense Page

The Talk

I had to have the talk with my 7-year-old.  She's awfully young, and, to be honest, I never actually thought she'd ask.  Dumb, I know, because kids these days...*sigh*  I guess I have movies to thank. 

She spent the day with me at work today.  I basically shut her into my file room with her laptop and let her watch Twinkle Toes.  A movie produced by Sketchers.  Yes.  Sketchers shoes.
 
Hang on while I polish my Mother of the Year trophy.

That's where she learned about...555 numbers.

Anyway, here's how the talk went:

E: (running into my office) Mom! I need your phone!

Me: Why?

E: Ughhhhhh.  It's PER-SUH-NULL.

Me: No.  WHO are you going to call?

E: Mooooom.  Just let me handle my business. 

Me: Tell me who, and I will think about it. 

She showed me the number she wanted to call, and I must admit I did an amazing job keeping my composure...for, like, 3 seconds. 

I remember learning that 555 numbers were fake.  I am certain at some point during my childhood I tried to call and order something from ACME or chit chat with "Deej" from Full House.  Boy was I mad when I found out they were using fake numbers!  I mean, why would they do that?  Don't they want to talk to me???

Me: Who's number is that?  Twinkle Toes?


Call me!  555-0123!

E: Yes.

Me: Honey.  That's not a real number.  TV shows and movies use 555 numbers instead of real numbers. 

E: It's REAL, mom.  It is!  And I need to call her. 

Me: What are you going to tell her?

E: Lots of stuff.  We have lots to talk about. 

Me: It's not a real number, sweetie.  And have I told you how cute you are?  I love you.  Let me take your picture because you're so precious and I want to remember this moment forever.   

"For real, mom, I need to call her.  It's personal."

My annual Serious Post...

I consider myself a fairly normal person with just a tinge of "Feminist".  My male co-workers, brother and husband think it's more than a tinge, but they would.  They're men.

So, this article about inner city kids and baby dolls really got me misty.  And by "misty" I mean, "I cried."  I'll let you read it before we discuss:

 

Brooklyn school girls get American Girl store Thrill

Wow.  This was a neat story.  There were so many things swirling in my head as/after I read this.  I'll try to unpack them one by one:

1.  To think that ANY girl of ANY background thinks for one second that she can't do/be (doo bee doo...can't help myself) anything she sets her mind to makes me sad.  So many famous quotes came to mind.  Pick your favorite and write it on your mirror.

 

"If I conceive it, and my heart can believe it - then I can achieve it." - Muhammad Ali

 

Every word in "Oh, The Places You'll Go!" - Dr. Seuss

 

"Go confidently in the direction of your dreams.  Live the life you have imagined." - Henry David Thoreau

 

"So often times it happens that we live our lives in chains, and we never even know we have the key." - The Eagles

 

"Whether you think you can, or you think you can't -- you're right." - Henry Ford

These last two quotes takes me to my second "thing". 

2. Why do these kids at such a startlingly young age have it programmed in their heads that there are places "white kids" go?  Or, places "black kids" go or don't go for that matter?  WHY?  Who told them that?  Maybe I live in a teeny-tiny-itty-bitty box of privilege and wealth (NOT!), but I haven't seen TV shows that promote that ideology.  Not TV shows for kids, anyway.  Are adults feeding them that line of bullshit?  If so, SHAME SHAME SHAME on them!  I mean, seriously.  Shame on them!  This really has me angry...

3. Good for their teacher for springing into action.  High praise for this guy, seriously!  I'm willing to bet he has an inner-city-kid-turned-into-a-teacher inspirational story of his own.  (At least I hope he does...that would make this that much more awesome!)  And good for all of those people who saw to it that these girls got their American Girl dream.  They are American girls, after all, and they should enjoy their experience...

4. But I hope the adults involved did not miss this teachable moment.  The moment where they could teach these girls that they are living this dream not because they were complaining to each other about their lot in life but because there are people out there to whom they can express their dreams and who will show them how to make their dreams come true! 

5.  They should make their next trip somewhere "whiter" than D.C. 

6. And please tell me that they aren't going flying on airplanes and staying in swanky hotels because that's what "white people do."  It is what successful people do.  And success comes in many colors and creeds, shapes and sizes and genders.  Well, just two genders. 

Never a dull moment when you're E-Vill...

Even when I'm home alone, I manage to stay completely entertained.  Today, I'm packing the girls' old clothes so I can give them to a friend.  That's the real reason for the boxes on my 4-year-old's bed. 

But in my head...I wish she was home so she could walk in her room and ask me what I'm doing.  Then I could look her in the eyes and say sadly, "Little Bee.  It's time you find a new home.  I'm packing your things."
This will keep me smiling for hours...or at least until I discover something of mine under her bed, ruined. 

I've figured out so much in the past 24 hours

My head.  It's scary in there.  But surely you know that by now.

So, this morning, I was pondering an article headline I read (headlines are so good these days that I don't feel I need to read the whole thing) that read:

Men mature at approximately age 43, British study confirms

#notsomuch

And then it hit me!  (Stay with me here because my explanation is going to get creepy before it gets enlightening)  Marrying a man younger than 43 is actually like adopting a teenager (legal age, of course) who WANTS to be adopted but whose mother does NOT want him to be adopted.  So you are now his new guardian, but you are in a very long battle with his biological mother for privileges like buying him socks, making him meatloaf, telling him to go to the doctor, etc .

WHY do we do this to ourselves?  Are they cute like puppies?  Not really.  Are we bored with our adoptee-less lives?  I didn't think I was. 

This, reader, is the real mystery because most, if not all, of us know that men don't mature for a while, but we take them in and feed them and want them to be our husbands anyway.  Research THAT!  Oh well.  Thanks, British scientists, for spending time and resources on something we could have told you DECADES ago.  CENTURIES ago.

So, this afternoon, I was resisting the urge to ask someone with a sick kid if they had taken the kid to the doctor.  No one likes unsolicited parenting advice or suggestions.  So why, having hated it myself, do I feel compelled to do this?  WHY? 

I figured it out as I was weighing the pros and cons...my stream of consciousness flowed like this: "Don't say anything because she probably took him.  Surely she took him. If she didn't take him he could die from it.  Oh the humanity.  If I don't say something and he dies, I will have the guilt to live with.  Being disliked by this dad is better than guilt.  Say something!!!" 

*Microwave-like 'ding' sound*

So I did. 

 

And, finally, the "Courtesy Flush".  Completely unnecessary, wasteful and not really courteous at all.  We know what you're doing and that you're doing it each time you flush. Stop wasting water, please.  

Yep, I said that to the Preacher's Wife

Let me start by saying, the preacher's wife is a pretty cool gal.  Well, she laughed at this conversation, so that makes her a pretty cool gal by my estimation. 

I was rushing to check that my kids made it to the nursery before church started, and I bumped into the PW.  It went something like this:

PW:  Good morning!

Me:  Good morning!  I have to make sure my kids made it to the nursery.  I let them go on their own, and I'm second-guessing that decision.

PW:  Oooh.  Yeah.  Good call.  You have...something...(pulling sticker off of my dress)...stuck to you.  Here you go. 

Me:  Great.  Now everyone will think I'm the church tramp...  

PW:  ??  What?  I didn't even see it... 

 

Both:  *laugh*

Oh those creative Sunday School projects...and my propensity to make inappropriate jokes from, well, just about everything including Bible verses...

***And now for my attempt at making this story end well.***

The kids are learning about the disciples this summer in Sunday School.  Last night, my four-year-old said, "The disciples are boring.  Except the one who walked on water with Jesus.  His name was Peter-Simon (Simon-Peter), and he was doing great until he took his eyes off of Jesus.  So don't take your eyes off of Jesus, or you'll drown."

Great job, Sunday School Teachers! 

How Funny Would THAT Be...?

I completely sympathize with those people whom society deems as "crazy" because, at a glance, I appear to be one of them.  Here's why.  Life is so funny.  Sometimes, it is funny-haha, sometimes it is funny-strange.  These funny life things just just pop into my head.  Mostly unannounced or uninvited, they almost always make me appear to be laughing for no reason or shaking my head at no one...so I look crazy.  It has happened for. ev. er.

*queue dreamy flashback music*

During tests...ALWAYS during tests...when the classroom was silent, a funny fart-thought would pop into my brain.  Like this:

"How funny would THAT be" (my funny things almost always start with that) "if <insert classmate's name here> farted while it's quiet, and then no one giggled because the whole class is trying not to giggle including <insert stodgy English teacher's name here> and by trying NOT to giggle, everyone starts farting...because the giggle-pressure has to escape from SOMEWHERE?" 

And then I answer my funny thought with a stifled giggle which makes me giggle harder and then stifle harder because I'm thinking, "OMGness, I'm going to be that person whose giggle has to escape somewhere, and how am I going to explain the whole story to the class?!?!?  Especially the person who I imagined farting the first place!!" 

And then I'd be sent to the hall or the office until my giggle-machine turned off. 

Fast forward to the present.  I'm 34, y'all, seriously.  Here is my list of funny thoughts that popped into my head today, and these are JUST the ones I can remember!

1. Showing my very modest "high/low" dress to a co-worker, he says OUT LOUD "It's business in the front and party in the back."  Funny thought: "How funny would THAT be if I'm all like, 'Isn't that a sex reference?'"  Just then, another co-worker in on the conversation said, "That's a mullet."  And I thought, "Yeah. A mullet.  DOWN THERE!" *laughing*

2. In the ladies' room, someone was obviously "holding back" until I finish and leave.  Funny thought: "How funny would THAT be if I just say, 'Let 'er rip, tater chip.'  That would be hilarious!  And maybe I'd start a trend of actually pooping in the pooper when other people are around because that's what it's here for!" *laughing in my head*

3. Same ladies' room trip.  Not "holding back" my business (it's a restroom for crying out loud).  Funny thought: "How funny would THAT be if this other person and I finish at the same time, and while washing our hands, she's like, 'Impressive how fast you can do your business!' and I say (all-smug-like), 'Thanks.  It's the benefits of a plant-based diet.'" *laughing laughing laughing*

3. At a business lunch with all men, I order ice cream.  Funny thought: "OMGness!  Those two perfect scoops look like vanilla breasts." 

Actually, I did *kind of* say that in a not so direct way.  Some thoughts just slip out when my filter is on a smoke break. 

4. This blog post...which makes me realize that my funny thoughts have a terrible, terrible, TERRIBLE theme.  I just might have the thoughts of a 12 year old boy.  Eeeeesh! 

Don't judge.