Alcohol, Assholery, and Patriarchy at its finest.

Thursday night was the shit-tastic topping to an already shitty week.

It was my friend's birthday, and even though I had an exam in the morning, I decided to stop by the bar for an hour or so. I needed a bit of a pick-me-up from all of the lovely relationship fighting I'd endured for three days straight, which I may post about later if I ever conjure up the nerve.

Anyway. It was like any old bar night with the usual suspects, except for the fact that friend X, let's call him Jerkface for fun, was in town for no apparent reason, even though he lives 5 hours away and had to work the next day.

Jerkface wasn't always a jerkface, btw. I actually had a lot of fun the last time he came into town. But, this particular night he apparently took a page out of someone else's jerkface book with the intention, I'm assuming, to impress the person he's been trying to get with for ages.

So, they all wanted to do sake bombs. Jerkface in particular. He decided he was going to treat the group and asked if I wanted one. I said no, he said come on now, I said no. He ordered me one anyway. When the order came out, he grabbed the beer & sake and tried to hand it to me. I said, I don't want one, but he still insisted that I take it. He insisted six times, and each demand elicited a shriller and more frantic NO! and I HAVE A TEST TOMORROW! and DO YOU NOT HEAR THE WORDS COMING OUT OF MY MOUTH. But, my voice was no match for the blaring band in the background, or Jerkface's smugness. Then, in a melodramatic and somewhat serious way, he said, I'm done with you, you've offended me. And then he pushed me a little.

recap:
Jerkface: silly woman, just listen to my authority so I can impress my lady friend.
Me: no, FUCK YOU, but you can't hear how fucking angry I am because the music's so fucking loud. 

God, I can feel my blood pressure rising just thinking about this. How insulting, first of all, for a person you consider a friend pull a imma man and wanna show off my manliness by refusing to take NO from a woman card. Seriously, what the hell, Jerkface. He was publicly shaming me for not taking a sake bomb. A SAKE BOMB. And then he pushed me. It was as if I was refusing to call 911 for someone bleeding to death.

The thing is, it's not like I'm unaccustomed to being peer pressured into drinking. Welcome to college. Or, that I'm unaccustomed to enduring assholery at its finest from drunkards wanting to be manly men. Welcome to being a 20-something female.

But seriously, something's wrong when a generally amicable dude suddenly thinks it's cute and impressive to assert such an obnoxious and flippant power trip that results in one of his friends (moi) feeling like I'm not even worthy of decent human respect. Or when our drinking culture starts making others feel entitled to demand that EVERYONE drinks, regardless of varying wishes and goals. It's disgusting, it's cruel, and I hate it.

Btw, this post was inspired by this, comment thread included.

And, We're Back.

So, it's been a while, no? Happy New Year's Eve, first of all. And happy new blog template to meee if I do say so myself, because sheesh, changing and customizing a template is a lot of work!

Let's recall that my last post was written in a state of hardcore self-pity due to a failing GRE score. I did take it again, however, and the second time around I scored a 1250, and holy shit, that's phenomenal considering I suck at standardized tests.

After giving the GRE a good kick in the ass I proceeded to have my own ass kicked by looming finals and grad applications.

Why, yes I am applying to graduate school for speech pathology, thanks for asking, and yes I am applying to nine programs. That's right, NINE. And no, I don't know what I'm thinking, either.

Anyway, I plan on officially writing on a regular basis from here on out. k bye 'till next year!

Good-bye, 'till I get my head right.

It was supposed to be all over yesterday. I'd go in there, focus, get my score and be done. I was supposed to be pleasantly surprised at how well I'd do, at least according to a friend, who said he didn't even break 1000 on his practice exams yet ended up with a 1200. And since the highest I'd gotten was an 1130, I thought, damn, I'm gonna murder this thing.

Damn.

I'm signed up to take the GRE again.

I can't remember the last time I sobbed so pathetically hard over a grade-related thing. But sob I did, 'till my eyelids swelled and my face hurt. The boyfriend offered comfort and said all the right things, but I still cried, cried, cried, thinking, you stupid, stupid bitch.

Needless to say I probably won't be blogging anytime soon. I need to study for the GRE every day until Take Two, occurring on November 11. And I need to catch up in school. And start exercising again.

I don't know if anyone still reads my blog, but let me tell you, I'm really fucking sad that I can't devote entire afternoons to writing in here anymore. The day of the GRE I entertained my visions of blog grandeur. I was going to tinker with the layout and add some really sweet features. I was going to blog about the fortune cookie message I received Friday night, which said, clothes make the man. Go shopping.

But I've got to try again at the GRE. I've got to study more. So long, blog-o-sphere. I won't be back 'till I get my head right, as we say it where I'm from.

Waste, or The Mark of Every School Year.

Ok, I was just about to study for the GRE, but I need to get this off my chest first:

This is what I saw when I took my trash and recycling out a few minutes ago. Granted, the complex I live in houses 200ish students. But, this isn't the only receptacle. Those column looking things on each side are mattresses.

Here is a close-up. The actual trash bin is in the center in the back. It's hard to see.

The three green trash cans serve as recycling units.

Maybe your initial reaction is, Wow! Your complex needs more trash cans! But that is not mine. These pictures represent what happens when consumption goes unchecked. When students from financially stable families move in and out of college apartments, paying no mind to the things they have bought and  ultimately leave behind.

This isn't just trash. It's waste. Waste in one of its most shameful forms. Waste that no one will miss, as everything in this dump can and will be easily replaced. Waste that not many will ponder, lest it grows enough to block the passage of the parking lot.

Waste marks the beginning and end of each passing school year. It starts with the long lines at Walmart and Target and ends with overflowing trash receptacles all over this tiny town. Every year students frantically rush out for furnishings and accessories that they will buy and throw away and buy again next year. Things that could easily be resold, or reused, or at least recycled. Things that maybe they didn't need in the first place, or maybe broke within the first few months of use, or maybe would've been too burdensome to move. Things and all of their plastic packaging, which will sustain long after they've moved away.

It is time to take a long hard look at our things.

Facebook Etiquette with Sort-of Friends.

We don't have any pictures together on Facebook. I think I wrote on his wall once to wish him a happy birthday. I wouldn't call us friends, exactly.

But I've known him since I was born. Probably. I don't know. I remember having a crush on him when I was 13 and thought those white shell necklaces were HAWT. I was confused, obviously.

During those years, I also remember frequently thinking what a little shit because his quick-witted mean remarks often left me stunned and embarrassed, and I, two years younger and not well-versed in sarcasm, could never think of anything clever to say back.

We got older, and I went to a well-ranked university. He dropped out of college his first year and went back to live with his parents. I see him no more than twice a year, in the company of our parents who fill the void with superficial chatter. I can't remember the last time I had an actual conversation with this guy.

As I mentioned before, I spent last week with my family. I left for a few days in the middle because of the work shifts I couldn't get out of, which meant I missed the awkward dinner with Friend X and his parents that I oh so look forward to every year. Right...

The next day, he wrote the following on my FB wall: your [sic] lame* for not coming to dinner yesterday. You could've met my amazing nephew. Too bad for you.

I was offended and fired back: It's "you're," not "your," buddy. Nice to hear from you.

From there we engaged in what my partner calls "net rage," or the firing of negative messages based on ego and short-lived anger and sometimes plain stupidity. He called me an elitist, I said he was being a pain in the ass. Etc.

Friend X was probably joking. He probably meant his original FB post to be taken in a playful way that hinted of camaraderie. I get it.

I've had many a friend in which a hey bitch greeting was not an insult. Where getting "mad" at being greeted by said phrase was funny. This kind of repertoire is one that I share with close friends, where enough trust exists in the relationship to know that your friend isn't actually trying to offend you, and she knows that you aren't really mad.

And just as I would've been pissed if my sister's boyfriend's roomate (not a trusted friend, to be clear) greeted me with a hey bitch, I took Friend X's original FB wall post as an insult.

But the thing is, I still feel like an asshole for pointing out his grammatical error. Was it mean to respond to his insult with an insult of my own? "Giving him a taste of his own medicine" is a tenable aphorism that comes to mind. But so does "taking the high road" (thanks mom) or "not resorting to the maturity of a 7th grader."

There's a second reason, too. Even though *I* don't think we're close friends (or ever have been), maybe he thought we were, or at least close enough for dry insults via FB to be friendly. And even though *I* don't like pretending that my acquaintances are my BFFs for life, maybe he does.

So, in the name of social harmony, should I have tucked away my indignation and responded differently? Or not at all?

Part of me says yes, asshole, you acted like a freaking 12-year-old, and even worse, it's now forever written on your FACEBOOK, which all of your other non-friends can gawk at for the rest of their LIVES (cue white people problems...)

On the other hand, am I suffering from The Syndrome? You know, the one that reads like this: if you have a vagina, then you're not supposed to use insult to let the other person know you didn't like the way they talked to you, because then that would mean you are standing up for yourself a bitch.

Maybe it's my social anxiety kicking in again. I don't know. I'm torn.

*I would like to point out that this is ableist language, which is never okay in any situation. Click here for more info.

STFU parents.

I'm spending this week with the whole damn family, including my darling nephews, ages 5 and 3.

My nephews immediately flock to my significant other whenever we come around. The running joke is that they're sexist and think my partner is way more fun than I am because he's a duuuude. Though I do wish they'd give me more love and attention sometimes, what can you do. Kids are kids.

Yesterday morning the oldest woke and climbed into my lap. It is rare that I get to hold my nephews and was absolutely delighted that he wanted to cuddle for 30 seconds before jumping down and running to his mom. You look like a natural, my dad commented, followed by, see, you don't hate kids after all, do you now.

Then my head exploded.

My partner and I have been dating for almost two years, and every time I'm around my family there's a relentless you're going to have 10 boys har har har commentary. Every. Single. Time. I've told them repeatedly that I don't know if I'm going to have kids and that I don't appreciate the fact that they bring it up every fucking time I come home.

Dear parents. Kindly Shut The Fuck Up. I know I am your heterosexual daughter and that means I should want to have teh babiez right away, but guess what. It's not up to you to decide whether or not I reproduce.

I am 22 years old and don't enjoy the fact that my reproductive future is talked and joked about constantly. Their joking comes from an ingrained societal expectation that I become a baby factory. I already have enough pressure from the patriarchy that tells us that women who don't want to fulfill their maternal "instincts" are bad, weird people, and it is so incredibly upsetting that my own goddamn parents buy into and support this bullshit. I shouldn't have to think about having kids of my own right now.

The thing that also kills me is the fact that my dad said "see, you don't hate kids!!!!!!" Um, when did I ever say that I hated kids? Especially my nephews? Just because I might not want children of my own does not equal hating kids.

What's so incredibly ironic is this: while my parents are more than comfortable with the thought of me having a child that I will inevitably have to care for and raise for the rest of my fucking life, they don't exactly support the fact that I want to go into speech pathology. Why? Oh, we just don't think you have enough patience to work with kids all day...

Brilliant.

Hair-washing, with 2 edible ingredients.

I have eliminated two more plastic bottles from my bathroom: my shampoo and conditioner. In their place is baking soda and apple cider vinegar.

I became aware of this alternative way to clean your hair when I first started exploring the environmental blog-o-sphere. In all honesty, I thought the people doing this were freaking crazy. Baking soda and vinegar? Really?

As a person who's cried and agonized over the state of her curls her whole life, I was sure this was one experiment I'd never try. I want to help the environment, but not at the expense of turning my hair into a frizzy mass of yuck.

But then I started reading a little more and found out this: sulfates in shampoo make curly hair frizzy. Immediately I went to my bathroom and read the ingredients on my Frizz-Ease Curl Around Daily Shampoo. And there is was. Sodium Laureth Sulfate and Sodium Lauryl Sulfate. I couldn't believe it. My $5/bottle shampoo wasn't easing my frizz, but perpetuating it!

So, more in the name of vanity than the environment, I pulled out two old plastic water bottles and concocted the following:

2 tablespoons baking soda & 2 cups water.
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar & 2 cups water.

Method: Shake up the water bottle with baking soda before use. Coat entire scalp and then scrub vigorously with fingers. Rinse out. Squirt ACV rinse and run your fingers through hair. Let sit for at least a minute before rinsing (I normally put it up in a bun for the rest of the shower and then rinse it out right before turning off the water.)

Yeah, this was a little weird at first. There are no bubbles or dense goo. Applying baking soda to my entire scalp is a little more tricky, as it takes some coordination. The first week I still used my Frizz-Ease conditioner. The Naturally Curly web site told me that conditioner usually has enough mild surfactants to clean hair, so for good measure I still used it after the ACV rinse.

Eventually, I got braver. Every other wash I forewent the conventional conditioner, and when my Frizz-Ease bottle eventually ran out, I didn't buy another one.

After 30 days, my hair looks and feels pretty much as it did when I was using the conventional stuff. It's not greasy. After it dries, it doesn't smell like vinegar. In fact, it really doesn't smell like anything, especially since I've switched to a hair gel that has only a mild fragrance. As far as frizz goes, it's calmed down considerably, even in the oven-like conditions outside.

Now. My hair wasn't magically perfect after giving up the 'poo and conditioner. It felt a little greasier than normal for about a week, but this also has to do with the fact that my experiment with coconut oil as a hair gel went wrong (more on this later). I also had dandruff for a little while, but it wasn't an all-out snowstorm either. Plus, I reasoned that I occasionally had dandruff with regular shampoo too, so this might not have been due to my new hair routine.

Finally, WHY THE HECK AM I DOING THIS?

If you recall in my Why You Should Care About Plastic post, I made a pledge to reduce the new amount of disposable plastic I buy. My empty shampoo and conditioner bottles cannot become part of the garbage patch in the North Pacific Gyre if I do not buy them in the first place.

Second, I've also become extremely concerned about the synthetic chemicals I use daily. According to the Environmental Working Group, "nearly 90% of ingredients used in personal care products have not been evaluated for safety by any publicly accountable institution."

My Frizz-Ease shampoo listed 25 chemicals alone. My conditioner listed 17. That's 42 chemicals. I don't know about you, but I'd rather limit my exposure to synthetic chemicals, especially when I can effectively clean my hair with two chemicals safe enough to eat.

If you want to try it (and I really hope that you do), I'd recommend changing gradually. Start with the one that freaks you out the least. Don't like the idea of baking soda? Try the ACV rinse first. Maybe alternate between the ACV rinse and conditioner for a little bit. Once that isn't a big deal, maybe eliminate the conditioner completely. Etc.

If you do give it a try, I'd be really interested in hearing how it goes. Especially if you're not white, since your hair texture may be different from mine.

Here are other testimonials about the baking soda & ACV rinse.