Whenever someone makes an argument about equal rights, he/she always counterpoints with "Women can't have it both ways. If they want a job with an equal salary, they have to open their own doors."
And there oh-so-many ways I could go with this ... so I'm going to cut straight to the point.
I like it when men open doors for me. -- It shocks the hell out of me everytime.
I'm not sure if the men from my generation do that anymore. I know in my entire family, I've never seen a man open a door for his wife, girlfriend or daughter--unless of course their arms were full of stuff. Even then, another woman would open the door or she'd set the stuff down and do it themselves.
When I worked at the station, I know Pat never opened a door for me. But that's okay, he wanted to toughen me up. I would have never let him open a door for me either--because we had that type of working relationship.
And I pretty sure none of the guys I've dated have open doors, I woulda thought I would remember that.
The older (and when I say that, I mean older that me, so 30's and above) men I've worked with always open doors for me. Like I said, it floors me. They quicken their step when I step through to make sure they get to the next door before me. Wow. I wonder if I hurt their ego when I open doors for them?
I'm an equal opportunities person. You can do whatever you want to do as long it doesn't hurt, belittle or degrade someone else. If a woman wants to stay home with her children, that's perfectly fine. Just don't scoff at another mother who can't make that decision or doesn't make that same decision for herself. And so on and so forth. There's plenty of examples about challenging traditional roles of society that I'm not going to touch on.
When a man opens a door for me he's just that--a man. A gentleman. He's smart, has manners, is polite and was raised right.
If you don't open the door...well I'm not going to write you off as a jerk, but I'm not going to be as impressed.
Think about that.
Wednesday, August 29, 2007
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Go tell your mother ...
So. Parents. They raise you, they love you, they scold you.
As everyone knows, I've always had a great relationship with my mom. She's the best. We had some rocky times in the "Stacy's Mom" era, but I'll let bygones be bygones going through midlife (and/or empty nest) crisis's.
My dad, not as good. I think it turned south when I stopped liking the visits to the hardware store. It only escalated when I started disagreeing with him and talking back. Not to mention the fact that we are very alike in personalities, especially when you're looking at our stubborn side. But somehow, someway ... he started talking to me after I moved away. Figure that. Dad still insists on talking to me in the morning before I've had my coffee and the obligatory 30 minutes "wake up time." But oh well, I suppose.
My mom has this odd way of conning me into work and getting me into trouble with her little adventures. "Let's go look at the pond," she'll say. Three hours later, I'm wet from fishing out a Frisbee. It starts with going down to the water's edge (fun). Then we move a couple rocks around (fun, but makes you start to sweat). Then Mom sees something in the pond, so I go in to pick out (fun, with wet feet). Here it comes, "Well, since your feet are already wet, why don't you go in further to get that Frisbee out." As I'm waist deep in water, looking at her dry on the shore, I realize I've been suckered again. And how the hell did this Frisbee even get in there, it's not ours...
One would think I would learn and start saying no---but it took me 21 years to realize she was doing it in the first place, so who knows how long it will take to see them coming and head them off at the pass...
And as if having one cunning and ruthless (okay, I'm taking some dramatic license here) mommy isn't enough, I've also been "blessed" with a second set of surrogate parents. And they're crazier than my first set. I try to think back now, to remember how it all happened.
Here's the cliff notes version: In college, newspaper advisor says the big man in SS was asking about you. I shrug it off. I get a call from the registrar in the SS office asking if I want to work there. Okay, cool a job. I remember the interview ... was really an interview? Asked about my hours, I said newspaper comes first. Asked how fast I could type.
I was intimidated by Tiff and Kim's relationship, and all the things I needed to learn about the office. Soon, I was spending more time there than anywhere else on campus. Then, whoohoo a summer job! Other than being locked in the dungeon it was awesome.
Somehow or another, I befriended a Viking fan *gasp* And I was told that I was the younger version of Kim. I think the parent thing started when Kim went to the business office. I think I was supposed to convince him to give her the plant...
The epic War of the Plant from the Copier Room, spawned the "Go tell her..." growls. I think this resulted in the "He's a loser come work for me." Which begot the "What can she give you that I can't?" retaliation. She countered with "He keeps you in the dungeon and I buy you pretty stuff" and the villagers cowered at "Go tell your father..."
But what probably blew the ship out of the water was, "I don't care about sparkly stuff, she left you. Who signs your checks? Who's your daddy?"
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the shudder heard 'round the world.
Oh the stories I could tell... How about the time that she (this tale recounts the time when I was there, I hear this trick is still an active one) snuck into his office so much stealing mints that he went through a full bag in a week or so. He buys new mints, fills it up and gives me (me?!) the executive order that she is NOT allowed in the office. Especially HIS office.
I plead the fifth and will not say anything that can be held against me in the court of jeffy ... but the long and short of it is that she came in and hid the mints.
And guess who got blamed? Yepper, yours truly. However, I had the "locked in the dungeon" story as an alibi and remained in both their good graces.
And so the saga continues. They are the king and queen of bicker and banter. And for people who are supposed to be vying for my affection, I seem to be caught in the middle. I hear more of "what did you tell her, and you're ratting on me" as well as "make him think this, do this for me" then "Stacey loves me more."
And let me tell you, though both are amusing, I much prefer the competition of making Stacey happier. After all, we all know how vain I am.
So Friday, I fall into the same old pattern again. And, like true parents, I tell one something and the other one instantly knows about it. And, unlike my real parents, "my mother" scolds me for having to hear it from "my father." (And as a side note, I'll probably get yelled at for blowing that cover, because the father didn't know that I didn't tell the mother.)
Alas, at least my real mommy loves me, even though she tricks me into working.
As everyone knows, I've always had a great relationship with my mom. She's the best. We had some rocky times in the "Stacy's Mom" era, but I'll let bygones be bygones going through midlife (and/or empty nest) crisis's.
My dad, not as good. I think it turned south when I stopped liking the visits to the hardware store. It only escalated when I started disagreeing with him and talking back. Not to mention the fact that we are very alike in personalities, especially when you're looking at our stubborn side. But somehow, someway ... he started talking to me after I moved away. Figure that. Dad still insists on talking to me in the morning before I've had my coffee and the obligatory 30 minutes "wake up time." But oh well, I suppose.
My mom has this odd way of conning me into work and getting me into trouble with her little adventures. "Let's go look at the pond," she'll say. Three hours later, I'm wet from fishing out a Frisbee. It starts with going down to the water's edge (fun). Then we move a couple rocks around (fun, but makes you start to sweat). Then Mom sees something in the pond, so I go in to pick out (fun, with wet feet). Here it comes, "Well, since your feet are already wet, why don't you go in further to get that Frisbee out." As I'm waist deep in water, looking at her dry on the shore, I realize I've been suckered again. And how the hell did this Frisbee even get in there, it's not ours...
One would think I would learn and start saying no---but it took me 21 years to realize she was doing it in the first place, so who knows how long it will take to see them coming and head them off at the pass...
And as if having one cunning and ruthless (okay, I'm taking some dramatic license here) mommy isn't enough, I've also been "blessed" with a second set of surrogate parents. And they're crazier than my first set. I try to think back now, to remember how it all happened.
Here's the cliff notes version: In college, newspaper advisor says the big man in SS was asking about you. I shrug it off. I get a call from the registrar in the SS office asking if I want to work there. Okay, cool a job. I remember the interview ... was really an interview? Asked about my hours, I said newspaper comes first. Asked how fast I could type.
I was intimidated by Tiff and Kim's relationship, and all the things I needed to learn about the office. Soon, I was spending more time there than anywhere else on campus. Then, whoohoo a summer job! Other than being locked in the dungeon it was awesome.
Somehow or another, I befriended a Viking fan *gasp* And I was told that I was the younger version of Kim. I think the parent thing started when Kim went to the business office. I think I was supposed to convince him to give her the plant...
The epic War of the Plant from the Copier Room, spawned the "Go tell her..." growls. I think this resulted in the "He's a loser come work for me." Which begot the "What can she give you that I can't?" retaliation. She countered with "He keeps you in the dungeon and I buy you pretty stuff" and the villagers cowered at "Go tell your father..."
But what probably blew the ship out of the water was, "I don't care about sparkly stuff, she left you. Who signs your checks? Who's your daddy?"
And that, ladies and gentlemen, was the shudder heard 'round the world.
Oh the stories I could tell... How about the time that she (this tale recounts the time when I was there, I hear this trick is still an active one) snuck into his office so much stealing mints that he went through a full bag in a week or so. He buys new mints, fills it up and gives me (me?!) the executive order that she is NOT allowed in the office. Especially HIS office.
I plead the fifth and will not say anything that can be held against me in the court of jeffy ... but the long and short of it is that she came in and hid the mints.
And guess who got blamed? Yepper, yours truly. However, I had the "locked in the dungeon" story as an alibi and remained in both their good graces.
And so the saga continues. They are the king and queen of bicker and banter. And for people who are supposed to be vying for my affection, I seem to be caught in the middle. I hear more of "what did you tell her, and you're ratting on me" as well as "make him think this, do this for me" then "Stacey loves me more."
And let me tell you, though both are amusing, I much prefer the competition of making Stacey happier. After all, we all know how vain I am.
So Friday, I fall into the same old pattern again. And, like true parents, I tell one something and the other one instantly knows about it. And, unlike my real parents, "my mother" scolds me for having to hear it from "my father." (And as a side note, I'll probably get yelled at for blowing that cover, because the father didn't know that I didn't tell the mother.)
Alas, at least my real mommy loves me, even though she tricks me into working.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
As an Era Ends
Last night, or this morning rather, I finished "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows." It took me three days to read it. And now before you "I read it in two days or less" people scoff at me, I could have finished it in one day if I wasn't being all responsible and sleeping because I had to work so pffft.
When I started reading it last night, I didn't even intend to finish it. I was thinking about 50 pages would be fine and then I'd finish the final 250 pages today. I started at 9:51 and ended at 12:15. Once I started I couldn't stop. I told myself I was at an exciting part, just get to lull and end. Well little did I know there wasn't a lull. I don't think there was a lull in the whole book.
After I finished it, I watched television for 10 minutes to distract myself from it. I could feel my heart pounding from the whole exciting ordeal. There was a point last night (probably about 10 seconds after I closed the book) that I wanted to open it up and read it all over again. As far as I can remember, I've never wanted to read a book again right after I finished (with the exception of There's a Monster at the End of This Book). And I've only done that with a handful of movies.
It was such a good book. So much so that I can't imagine there ever being another Harry Potter book to top it. There are some things I wished JK Rowling would have covered before she ended it. I'm still satisfied with the ending, so I'm tryng not to think about it. But somehow thoughts of Harry and the gang keep edging it's way to the back of my mind.
Well, enough of Harry. *sniffle*
I'd say for the past month or two I haven't been in the mood to cook. I don't know if it's because it's summer, so I'd rather be outside or I don't want to make the house hotter by using the oven. But I've had no interest.
I got that interest back yesterday. I made a cucumber salsa, fresh tomato sauce, gnocelli (which I'm sure I'm spelling wrong, but am too lazy to look up--they're little pasta-like potato dumplings), stuffed zucchini and this morning I made zucchini bread. I used half wheat flour for the bread, and it's not as good as all white flour. I find that odd, because most other recipes using wheat have turned out better than their all white flour verisons.
On a KoL note: I just hit level 12, and I'm still working on the Quest of MacGuffin's Diary *coughdirtybastardcough*. I've gone through this quest faster than last time around. I need to get a dusty bottle of Marsala (that's NOT dropping!!), fight Lord Spookyraven and do the Pyramid Quest, and then I'm done.
Unfortunately for my stats, I'm on day 26. It's been so busy that I haven't been able to get my adventuring in properly each day. Plus I missed three days of adventuring last weekend.
Disco Bandit skills suck. So, I'm not sure what one to make permanent. The attacking ones are practically worthless.
I've been in pre-season football heaven: three days, three games! I'm jotting down notes and getting names for fantasy football. Plus it's just a rush to see it again. Oh, how I love football. I missed the first quarter of last night's Packers-Steelers game, and I didn't get to see Ben Rothelisberger play. Very disappointed.
When I started reading it last night, I didn't even intend to finish it. I was thinking about 50 pages would be fine and then I'd finish the final 250 pages today. I started at 9:51 and ended at 12:15. Once I started I couldn't stop. I told myself I was at an exciting part, just get to lull and end. Well little did I know there wasn't a lull. I don't think there was a lull in the whole book.
After I finished it, I watched television for 10 minutes to distract myself from it. I could feel my heart pounding from the whole exciting ordeal. There was a point last night (probably about 10 seconds after I closed the book) that I wanted to open it up and read it all over again. As far as I can remember, I've never wanted to read a book again right after I finished (with the exception of There's a Monster at the End of This Book). And I've only done that with a handful of movies.
It was such a good book. So much so that I can't imagine there ever being another Harry Potter book to top it. There are some things I wished JK Rowling would have covered before she ended it. I'm still satisfied with the ending, so I'm tryng not to think about it. But somehow thoughts of Harry and the gang keep edging it's way to the back of my mind.
Well, enough of Harry. *sniffle*
I'd say for the past month or two I haven't been in the mood to cook. I don't know if it's because it's summer, so I'd rather be outside or I don't want to make the house hotter by using the oven. But I've had no interest.
I got that interest back yesterday. I made a cucumber salsa, fresh tomato sauce, gnocelli (which I'm sure I'm spelling wrong, but am too lazy to look up--they're little pasta-like potato dumplings), stuffed zucchini and this morning I made zucchini bread. I used half wheat flour for the bread, and it's not as good as all white flour. I find that odd, because most other recipes using wheat have turned out better than their all white flour verisons.
On a KoL note: I just hit level 12, and I'm still working on the Quest of MacGuffin's Diary *coughdirtybastardcough*. I've gone through this quest faster than last time around. I need to get a dusty bottle of Marsala (that's NOT dropping!!), fight Lord Spookyraven and do the Pyramid Quest, and then I'm done.
Unfortunately for my stats, I'm on day 26. It's been so busy that I haven't been able to get my adventuring in properly each day. Plus I missed three days of adventuring last weekend.
Disco Bandit skills suck. So, I'm not sure what one to make permanent. The attacking ones are practically worthless.
I've been in pre-season football heaven: three days, three games! I'm jotting down notes and getting names for fantasy football. Plus it's just a rush to see it again. Oh, how I love football. I missed the first quarter of last night's Packers-Steelers game, and I didn't get to see Ben Rothelisberger play. Very disappointed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)