Happy Anniversary to my amazing husband Peter!
Earlier today, my mom asked me if I’d seen the movie “42” yet.
To which I responded, “Mom, you should never ask me if I’ve seen a particular movie YET; just ask me if I’ve seen it.”
Because — and this applies to ALL movies — chances are I haven’t seen it, and won’t ever.
Besides the unpleasantness of the modern-day movie theater experience (noise, filth, rudeness, discomfort, outrageous cost), I simply prefer episodic television to cinematic feature films. I’m all about character over plot, and a well-written/acted/directed TV series allows for a gradual knowing of the characters and the opportunity to see them evolve. It’s exceedingly rare to find anything approaching that in a two-hour movie.
I would like to have access to every database in the world.
It’s not so much that I’m an information junkie as I am a sleuthing junkie. In other words, the act of looking for and finding information fires me up much more than the end result of actually having the information.
But saying that I enjoy looking things up doesn’t even come close. It’s more like I’m compelled to do it. So if you ever want to distract me from something else, just mention that you’re wondering whatever happened to a certain person or you want to get the background on a particular issue or you’d like to learn about a random topic…. and I will be on it immediately. I just can’t help myself.
I don’t know if I’m simply hard-wired in this way, or there’s something in my history that renders me insanely curious about almost everything…
In any case, it would be so very nice if some entity out there would pay me (preferably a lot of money) to do what I do best and enjoy the most: LOOKING SHIT UP. And if in the process I could have access to every database in the world… well, I almost can’t think of anything better.
If you suffer from this malady, as I do, you know how it feels to be ostracized, to be judged unfairly, to be the object of disappointment… and most of all, to be misunderstood. On the other hand, you may not even be aware of the reason for your lifelong outsider status, so consider the following questions:
- As far back as you can recall, have people avoided you, shot facial daggers at you for seemingly no reason, and/or gravitated to anyone else in the vicinity other than you?
- Do you remember how it felt to be the last one added to the team… to be the one student who was never asked out on a date, let alone to the prom?
- In the workplace, are you accused of being unapproachable and/or “not a team player?”
- Do you have to fight a little harder to obtain customer service while shopping?
- Do you find doors slamming in your face… or even worse, people holding the door while figuratively holding their nose?
- At social gatherings, are you generally left to your own devices while, all around you, folks engage in groups or one-on-ones of animated conversation and laughter?
- Do family members, close friends, and even lovers continue to have issues with you because of your “attitude?”
- Most of all, are you bewildered by the fact that many people actively deny themselves the pleasure of your company, that they seem to have no idea what a fascinating and completely awesome person you are — on the inside?
If any/all of the above resonates with you, you just might be a victim of BITCHY RESTING FACE.
Sadly, we are the silent minority, and there is no law to prevent the type of discrimination we are forced to endure every day of the year. But finally there is vindication. Now, you may very well be one of those tough nuts who doesn’t care what others think or how they treat you. But if you aren’t and you do, you can now take comfort in knowing that there are at least a few others out there GET IT… because, they too, are plagued by the condition known as “bitchy resting face.”
You are not alone.
Here’s the thing about me: I am not in the least bit shy about asking for advice, assistance, or helpful suggestions if I feel I need it/them. So if I DON’T ask, please assume that I do not want and would not welcome any of the above.
I rant for a living. Okay, maybe not literally for financial reward (heh, I WISH someone would pay me for engaging in such a satisfying activity)… but I rant because I can. Because it’s fun. Because it’s therapeutic. Sometimes my ranting behavior is simply “loud” opining. Other times, my rants are out and out bitch sessions. On (hopefully rare) occasions, they are pity parties. But unless they contain express requests for help, I am not asking.
If you get nothing else about me, please get this, and keep your helpful suggestions and advice to yourself. Thank you. 🙂
In my 50 or so years of being a radio listener (and at times fanatic), and even a few working in the business, I have not come across a more intelligent, articulate, informed, erudite, reasoned, and personable radio talk show host than Gene Burns. No matter what side of aisle, Gene could talk to anyone and anyone could talk to Gene. I was devastated when KGO laid him off, and especially when his ensuing stroke kept him from being seated behind his next mic at KKSF. And it breaks my heart that he’s now gone for good. On the other hand, I’m sure Gene did not enjoy his impaired quality of life over the past couple years… so I’m glad for him that he’s been released from his broken body. Rest well, Gene. Thank you for your decades of on-air service. You will not be forgotten.
When I come across content such as the following while I’m editing environmental/technical reports, my eyes just about roll out of my head:
“Five (5) copies of the report will be submitted to the responsible agency.”
Redundant much? Must we be hit over the head? Are you telling me there actually ARE people out there unaware of the fact that the word five equals the numeral 5??
Dumb blonde jokes don’t hurt my feelings. Bitch-get-me-a-sandwich jokes don’t offend me. Breast ogling doesn’t get my dander up. “On the rag” comments I can find humorous. Even cat-calling and whistles from the scaffolding… well, okay, that might bother me a little, but I can deal.
But when you invade my space and get all up in my personal business and my physical self… when you legislate against me and my gender… when you deny half the population (of which I happen to belong) sovereign rights to our own bodies… when you apply double standards to health care coverage and reproductive rights and sexual behavior… when you practice state-sanctioned rape in the form of probes being forced up the vaginas of unwilling participants… and when you take away access to birth control and basic health care and even abortion (which is still a legal medical procedure in the United States)… YOU OFFEND ME DEEPLY.
So be advised that I will boycott you, protest you, get in your face, and spread the word until the day you stop promulgating your misogynistic messages and until you end the practices and beliefs that place the rights of women even one millimeter below the rights of men.
- I couldn’t be less interested in adolescent girls’ fantasies of their dream weddings.
- What many consider cute, I find vomitocious.
- To wit: There’s nothing worse than the appearance of a curtain rather than a cabinet under a kitchen sink. And no amount of enthusiastic appreciative comments can make it acceptable. Ever.
- The style referred to most commonly as “boho chic” is certainly colorful — yet messy, disorganized, dirty, dingy, and very possibly odorous.
- Most people cannot distinguish design from décor.
- A generic photograph over which a colored filter has been applied via graphics software is not an honest (or even attractive) celebration of said color.
- The average person has no sense of history. Or organization. Or taste.
- I am far more anal than the average person.
Now that I’ve got your attention, please visit my Pinterest boards. I promise you won’t be bored.
Very touching. If I were the one dying and in pain, I’d want everyone to get the fuck out of my face… but that’s why I’ll likely never have a piece written about me in the New York Times. I greatly admire this woman’s courage and generosity.