Sunny Days in DC

I just stabbed myself in my mouth with my sandwich

Hannahbanana — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 17:09:06 GMT

So, to ease my pain, I'd like all of you to take your cute little bottoms over to ToyWithMe and comment on my new article. It'll ease my pain, and enlarge my ego to the point where I will need a whole new house just for that.

kthanxloveu!

I am so bored

Hannahbanana — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 19:27:58 GMT

OMG, REALLY?! I am so bored right now.

So, I'm going to tell you a story. It's a story about a girl who gets a job as a Project Manager at a new company a few weeks ago.

This girl, let's just call her "Banana" joined up all excited and wide-eyed! Ready for the test!

When she got there, however, she learned that the manager of one of the other contracting firms with whom she was working was a TOTAL FUCKING ASSHAT, and was trying to get her pregnant employee fired. We'll just call that asshat, "ASSHAT," and we'll call the employee, "Izzy."

Well, Asshat doesn't like Izzy, so he sent our Banana an email stating that she should review Izzy's work history, as it is deficient, and that she should consider the fact that Izzy is pregnant when evaluating Izzy's place on the contract.

Banana was shocked! "Why! That's a violation of Izzy's civil rights!" she thought, and sent back an email replying that Izzy's work, and ONLY Izzy's work, would constitute the basis for review.

This did not please Asshat, and he continued to approach, not just Banana, but Izzy, and intimidate her to leave.

Finally, it got to the point where Asshat started saying that the Customer wanted Izzy gone... not just because she was pregnant, but also possibly because of her race.

This blew Banana's mind.

Banana forwarded all of her emails, as well as Izzy's account of her interactions with Asshat, to Banana's boss. The customer got wind of being called racist and misogynistic, and was none too please with ol' Asshat.

Keep in mind that ALL Banana wanted to do was to make the harassment stop... but she overshot her mark.

"I WANT THE ENTIRE COMPANY *GONE*" thundered the customer, when referring to Asshat's company. "Not just Asshat, the whole shebang! I want Banana to take over!"

Banana dropped in her chair, and felt very much like the end of "The Chronicles of Riddick," where the main character has been fighting so hard just to have some peace, and suddenly turns around to find that he's running an entire kingdom. "You keep what you kill," is what his enemies say.

Banana didn't mean to kill the company... but I guess she gets to keep the promotion!

Nanowrimo question

Hannahbanana — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 17:01:22 GMT

Hey y'all... do we post our progress ON the site? Or do we write in our own computers, and then post the word count up there? I am super-fantastic confused!

I am way too needy for my own good

Hannahbanana — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 02:25:17 GMT

So, I finally joined a Scene social networking site, despite the fact that I can think of at least of 15 of my friends who are on there and have been after me to create a profile for over a year. Here's the sad thing: now that I'm on, I'm TOTALLY OBSESSED! I have my email up right now to see if people have accepted my friend requests.

This is my life people. I need one with more hobbies.

Wanna feel dirty?

Hannahbanana — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 15:02:53 GMT

YEAH YOU DO!!! So go read my new article on ToyWithMe about submission and sex. My exploration of the dark underbelly of the DC sex scene continues! Only, I find that it isn't so much "dark," as "lightly tanned."

http://toywithme.com/sexuality/the-psychology-of-submission

Time out

Hannahbanana — Thu, 29 Oct 2009 18:22:31 GMT

The hubs and I attend couple's counseling from time to time. Like maintaining a valuable car, even when it's running smoothly you still want to be sure that there are no break-downs on the horizon, if possible.

It was in couples' counseling last night that the hubs started talking about how upset he was with the fight I'm in with my dad. His concerns about how I have zero contact with my father's side of the family (even though he doesn't blame me), and his issues with me not speaking to my dad right now.

"He's a part of my life, for better or worse. You cant just cut him out!" the hubs said.

"Ok," I said, trying to think about how I was going to explain this, "Think about it like this: I have made a the promise that my dad is going to be in our lives, and our children's lives. Any kids we have, they will be his grandchildren, and I won't stand in the way of that relationship. HOWEVER, that does not then mean that I have to be his punching bag, and whenever he's upset, he gets to take it out on me.

Think of it this way," I continued, "when a little kid acts up, you give them a time out, and you say, 'you are welcome to come back to the table any time you like, but you have to change your behavior. So, whether or not you come back is really up to you.' That's what I'm doing here. I'm not cutting him out of my life, but I'm giving him a chance to cool off, and realize that a relationship doesn't mean he gets to act out."

"I like that," our therapist said. "You're demanding respect, without closing doors."

And it's true; for all that my father can be an ass sometimes, he's a well-meaning ass. It's an issue of communication, not of lack of love.

I, personally, tend to connect very well with other women who have had issues with their fathers. We just "get" each other, and there's this under-current of a bond. It took me a long time to learn how to deal with him, and as stupid as they sound, here are my secrets for dealing with MY dad (YOUR results may vary):

The buddha said, "All life is suffering, and suffering stems from desire. So, to end desire is to end suffering." It's true in a lot of ways. My desire was for my dad to ACT the way *I* wanted a dad to act. He consistantly failed to meet up to those expectations, and so I was consistantly angry and stressed. Once I became an adult though, I realized that he is the way he is, and if I want him to accept me, I have to accept him. I can't expect him to act the way I want. Well, I can EXPECT it, but it'll just make me mad.

So, I stopped expecting him to act a certain way. When I stopped that, I found that I was able to take a step back and take control of the relationship to some degree. If he wants to throw a tantrum, he can do that, but he doesn't get to snare me into it. I don't desire from him what I know I can't have, so my committment to his emotional swings are limited.

Does that sound kooky? Maybe. I love him, and I'll always love him, but finding a way to deal with him has been priceless.

Last night, he sent me an email, apologizing for his swing, and asking if I wanted to follow up on that suggestion I made to see him and his wife after our birthdays. I said that sounded wonderful, and I was all for it.

So, I think my conclusion is this, "time outs": they work for small children and insane parents, when you just can't pick up and move to hawaii.

BANANA DOWN!!!

Hannahbanana — Tue, 27 Oct 2009 15:42:16 GMT

I'm home sick today. It sucks, but I've learned that it's better to take the day than try to work through it, which makes you sicker for longer. The hubs, who was also feeling a little under the weather, and I tried to get to bed early. Our morning conversation went like this:

Him: How are you feeling this morning?

Me: I would be BETTER but SOMEBODY was taking up an entire half of the bed last night!

Him: Who? Me?

Me: No!! Moe! (our kitty)

Him: WHA?!

Me: Not bad for a little furball who's only about 2 feet long!

No lie, this cat STRETCHED himself out on his back (like his daddy), and started squeezing me off the bed! But can I be mad at him?! No...

Him: THIS little kitty caused all the problems?! Who's a widdle kitty?! Who's a siwwy, widdle puddy?!

Me: SNUGGLE KIDDY!!!

...and so on. What is with these little guys?! How can I be mad at him one minute for taking the entire bed while I'm trying to sleep, and the next minute I can't stop tickling his tummy?!

I've fallen victim to that yummy little face.

BANANA DOWN!!

The thing about the 60's

Hannahbanana — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 13:13:46 GMT

Here's the thing, I think most people my age (though I guess I no longer count as a "young person") WANT to get involved, and WANT to help change the world, but we just don't know how it's done.

I'm not blind to the fact that over 5 million people have died in the Congo since the 2003 "Peace Accords."

5 MILLION.

As a Jew, that hits home, and as human beings, I think most of us are horrified that people are starving, and that rape is being used as a weapon against women and children. I think most of us, if we could, would DO something to help.

But what?

Let's face it, I don't know if you've looked at your checkbook lately, but I'm living paycheck to paycheck right now. I just started a new job, and while I want to help women in the Congo, I can't afford not to pay our mortgage.

Not having been there, it seems to me that in the 60's, there was always some protest or another going on, and you could just join up! But now... how do I start a protest? What... what do I do? Does someone know?

In my humble opinion, I think maybe those soldiers would be a hell of a lot less likely to rape those women, if the women could defend themselves. Yes, it's very important that "justice be done" and that the soldiers are brough to court, but how do we empower those women there? Honestly? Stupid as it sounds... what... what if we taught them self-defense? And not like those little "knee-to-the-groin" classes you took in college, but like real, fucking, beat-the-shit-out-of-the-guy self defense that they teach to military? Like Krav Maga, or something? At least a shot to defend THEMSELVES and take back some honor? But who do I talk to about this?

I'm not ignorant that globally we're losing free speech rights, and women are being abused and murdered... but how do I START doing something?

Thoughts?

UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE!!!

Hannahbanana — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 19:24:48 GMT

I sent an email to my step-mother today, letting her know that my hubs has been planning a surprise for my birthday. Not a couple of hours later, I get the MOST passive-aggressive call from my dad.

"Well! You do what you want!" He says.

It all stems from this: I am terrible on the phone. I HATE talking on the phone. I have a hard time understanding things people say, I can't hear them that well, I don't like holding phones so close to my head... whatever. I just don't like it. So I always tell people, EMAIL ME. It's easier, and I can get back to you WHILE I'M AT WORK!!

So he calls up:

Dad: Can I talk to you about something?

Me: Well, I'm at work, but if it's important, sure, what's up?

Dad: I just want to talk to you about the way I'm feeling.

Me: Uhhh... ok.

Dad: I just don't feel like I'm a part of your life anymore! You haven't called for MONTHS! (Backstory: the reason why I stopped calling him was because of yet ANOTHER passive-aggressive phone call where he called me selfish for not calling his wife to thank her for the gift card the MOMENT we got it... which was our one-year anniversary. I'm such a bitch!)

Me: Well A) That's probably because when I do call you, I get conversations like these and B) You KNOW I hate to talk on the phone... why don't you just email me?

Dad: You KNOW I hate emailing! It's so impersonal! I could have been dead for months now, and you never would have known!!

Me: Dad, I really think your wife would have sent out an email if something like that happened. That seems like news to know.

Dad: NO! Cause I told her not to!

Me: ..... what the fuck?

.... and it goes on and on like this. The problem is that this is his 70th birthday party, and neither his brother, or my older (half)sister (Julie) will be there. Why? Because they're fucking nuts. I'm not saying I'm a poster child for normalcy, but I've made the promise to have my dad in my life, and family is about being there for each other, even when your crazy father goes tripping the fuck off the deep end.

Whatever. He had his tantrum, so I wrote him an email:

"Your Call:

I'm sorry that you're having a hard time understanding that I don't like the phone. I am sorry that you're feeling abandoned by your family with your 70th birthday coming up, and knowing that your brother, first daughter, and grandchildren will not be there. That's a pain I never hope to imagine.

However, that does not then make it appropriate for you to call me at work and load it all on me. I am NOT sorry that I don't like talking on the phone: it's just the way I am. If YOU don't like sending emails, then we'll have to come to a compromise, no matter how much you may not like it. This is what an adult relationship is like; not throwing a tantrum on the phone and telling me that you've now told Mona not to tell anyone if you die. That's childish.

You've been so impressed by my analysis of Julie, so let me impress you again: you're angry because you feel older now, and the rest of your family is a bunch of shitheads. That's no reflection on you, but anyone would feel alone knowing that their family won't be there for them. You're mad at me, because you want me at your birthday party. I understand that, and I want to be there for you. *I*, unlike the rest of your family, DO love and support you, even if I can't be there physically. However, *I* also have a big birthday coming up, and I would like to think that my father would be SO HAPPY for me to have a wonderful man in my life who wants to take me out of the country and surprise me with a trip, that he would be sad, but understand.

I would hope that a father who loves me would be aware that his daughter doesn't like the phone, and would condescend to send her an email once in a while, so that she could chat with him while she was at work. And not a mass email that you send to G-D and country, but something to say hi to her. Letters DID come before the phone, you know.

You, Dad, were an ass on the phone. You didn't call to discuss, you called to unload on me. Well, I don't appreciate that.

You talk about how no one ever taught you how to be a "good" father. Let me give you a pointer: I love you, even though you're an ass sometimes. My husband wants to take me on a romantic trip. Your wife is wonderful, and I appreciated the gift card, but not the aggressive call I got the morning after my anniversary telling me how rude it was that I didn't call IMMEDIATELY upon receiving the card (the night before).

I won't be at your birthday party, not because I don't want to be there for you, but because I have a life too. Stop being an ass, stop feeling abandoned. As frustrating as you can be, I still love you, and I'm not going anywhere... even if you can't send out an email every once in a while.

I will try to call more. YOU try to email more.

Also, try not to be an ass.

Love,

Hannah"

If I had to analyze this relationship as a stock investment (because, let's be fair, everything in life is SOME sort of an investment) I would say that I don't get a lot of return on my investment. There are some people (Back me up, Sally!) who are energy-suckers. You almost have to ramp yourself up to talk to them, because they take so much out of you. I love my dad, but he takes A LOT. He throws tantrums, he has his fits, but at the core, he's a good kid. An annoying kid, but good.

So the question is: do I give in to his games and say "to hell with this!" or do I let the tempest pass? Frankly, I feel like the main reason I reinitiated this relationship was because so many people told me how healthy it would be.

I'm thinking: EPIC FAIL.

Nip/Tuck

Hannahbanana — Wed, 21 Oct 2009 14:16:03 GMT

I can't really point fingers, because my mom had a facelift, but the thing about plastic surgery that freaks me out, is that it's so entirely unregulated.

Our own Roberta put out an interesting post that Arnold Schwarzenegger has signed a law stating that in California, you have to have a physical exam before having plastic surgery. Could you even imagine going into any type of surgery by just rolling up in your car, pulling off your clothes, jumping on the table and yelling, "CUT AWAY, DOC!" I read an article in Marie Claire last month that talked about how some women go to their local "man-in-a-van" (literally) to get cut and lifted and injected. IN.A.VAN.

And now maybe you're thinking, "OMG! So stupid! I would never do that!" Ok, sure, but what about your dentist. You trust him/her, don't you? They're so good with your teeth, that when they send out a pamphelet announcing that they now provide discounted botox injections, you figure, "SURE!" but here's the problem: not all "doctors" are created equal. Many of these specialist-cum-cometic surgeons only have to take an online course for a couple of weeks to be allowed to purchase the medical-quality botox.

So, the man who is stuffing your face with deadly poisons, just stabbing that needle around your head, only had to put in a few hours to know how to (basically) PROBABLY not kill you. Would you want someone giving you anesthesia after taking an online course for a few weeks?

I get it, I do. My mom wanted to look younger, so she got a facelift. But the doctor, who I never met, and who she claims IS certified to be a cosmetic surgeon, DIDN'T do a detailed enough medical history on her.

My mom is a breat cancer survivor, and like many people who have gone through chemo and radiation, her ability to clot and heal after bruises was compromised.

Her. Face. Was. Black. Not even purple with bruises. He made her eyelids so tight, that with the swelling, they bulged out. She looked like she had been beaten half to death, and the bruises continued all the way down her neck to her sternum.

I cried when I saw her, and though she's ok now, what if it had been worse? What if she couldn't stop bleeding, and the doctor didn't know because he hadn't paid enough attention? Is that beauty? Is that what people want?

I get it. I'm only 29, and maybe someday I'll want a little nip here and a tuck there, and if YOU do, then I certainly don't blame you. All I ask is that you do ALL of your homework. There ARE board certified cosmetic surgeons out there, who KNOW what they're doing. Find them. Don't do what one of the women in the article did, and go to some cheap-o on the side... her left nipple ended up rotting away.

WHO LIKES BOOBS?!?!

Hannahbanana — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 01:32:04 GMT

YEAH YOU DO! Go visit one fantastic website (complete with boobs) and show your support during Breast Cancer awareness month. Also, you get to read a story about my mom's boobs and a dude named Vinnie. OMG, you are SO in!

http://toywithme.com/accepting-your-body/my-mothers-magnificent-mams/#comments

This is why we can't be friends

Hannahbanana — Mon, 19 Oct 2009 18:35:26 GMT

To better understand this story, you need some BACKstory.

My parents are divorced. My dad became crazy-religious when I was around 2 or 3, and my mom couldn't take it any more (and frankly, neither could I). My childhood was punctuated by events in their relationship that included me as a bargaining piece.I'm not complaining, and I know that there are MANY other people who had it far worse than I did growing up. They never hit me (I don't count well-deserved spankings as "beating"), and I always had food to eat.

Still, there's a lot to be said about my parents' own issues and how they interact with the world. For example, my dad loved me so much, that he kidnapped me twice... it made sense in his head.

Anyway, my dad and I have birthdays that are 3 days (and 40 years) apart. I'm December 4, he's December 7th. The problem with having birthdays so close together is that when major milestones hit, you have to figure out who gets to celebrate it.

This year, I'll turn 30, and he'll turn 70.

This morning I got an email from my step-mother (bless her, the woman can drive a saint to murder), telling me that I should keep that weekend free, because they're having a big birthday party for him.

For him...

Not that I don't think he doesn't deserve a wonderful birthday! We've both worked very hard at our relationship. I spent much of my life not actively dealing with him, but I feel that as I get older, it wouldn't be fair for me to keep him from any kids my husband and I may produce. If they choose not to be in touch with him as they get older, then that is their decision, but I won't keep family from family.

Anyway, I'm getting side-tracked. It's likely that my step-mom has planned some sort of "surprise" thing for me, in addition to my dad's party, but here's where the tough part comes in (ADVICE IS WELCOME!!!)

I've been telling the hubs FOREVER how much I love him, but how he is not at all romantic. He isn't. He's sweet, and kind, and considerate, but to get a bouquet of flowers out of the man is like pulling teeth. Well, for my 30th he said, "I'm planning a trip for us. Bring your passport, and warm clothes."

I have my suspicions, but CRAP! WHAT DO I DO NOW?! I don't think he's bought tickets yet to where ever, but if he hasn't, then do I forego having fun with the hubs in some possibly amazingly romantica locale, so I can sit around with a bunch of 50+ Orthodox Jews?Why would I want to celebrate MY birthday like that?

DAMMIT!!!!!!!

Hugs: Cheaper than Zoloft

Hannahbanana — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 17:56:50 GMT

You know, I get that some people are just born with chemical problems in their brains, but I really think that most of us could just use a damn good hug. Especially as winter comes on. I mean, don't you just stop in the middle of your day sometimes and think, "If I just had a really good hug right now, I could make it through this day, easy."

OMG. How great would it feel to be like, "fuck this. I'm going out for a Starbucks. No! Wait! I'm going out for a HUG! A nice big bear hug!"

Ugh! Why aren't there people who just offer sweet, warm, hugs all the time?

...my mommy lives too far away....

I will beat you to death, and other tales of the workplace

Hannahbanana — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 12:44:39 GMT

HI ALL! I know, I suck, I haven't been on in a long time, and I've missed y'all. A recap of the last few weeks: Carm and I have been texted back and forth like crazy people, because I needed a piece of PVC to put up my Sukkah (look it up, peeps!), and she was the only other person IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD who knew what piece I was looking for, so she totally went, ON HER BIRTHDAY, to get the pieces from a local hardware store in Washington state, so that she could mail them to Washington DC. Cause she's awesome. Yes.

Then, I started my new job... AS A MANAGER!!!! WOOT!! For a little back story as to why I feel the deep and abiding urge to murder today, let me explain a little bit about what you've missed by not living inside my head:

The guy I work with who runs the other half of the team is named Tony, but for now we'll just call him Tony the Asshole. TTA decided that as soon as I came on-board, it would be a good time to try and overwhelm me with work and craziness, so that he could get all the things done that he wanted to get done, but COULDN'T when my predecessor was here. Nice. So he starts throwing things (work, not actual things) at me and my team, trying to overwhelm me, and this morning I get an email in my inbox.

"We have to talk about 'O'". "O" is a very sweet girl who works with me. Is she snarky? Yes. Does she lack the finer skills of handling men who use paperwork to compensate for significant other deficiencies? Sure. She's not, what my former manager would have called, "demure." But girlfriend knows her shit, and all the rest, baby, is ICING.

We have to talk about "O." Some of her customers have been complaining, and the fact that she's pregnant should be discussed.

Are you fucking retarded, Tony? First of all, by even MENTIONING her condition, you open us ALL up to litigation you fucking fuck! Secondly, YOU'RE TALKING TO A WOMAN. HOW THE FUCK DO YOU THINK I FEEL TALKING ABOUT REMOVING A WOMAN FROM A CONTRACT BECAUSE SHE'S PREGNANT?! Jesus-tittyfucking-Christ! Were you absent during "common sense" day at school?!

I told myself I was going to be calm about this, and not pull off his head like a twisty top on a grape drink, but this man is working my LAST DAMN NERVE.

Oh... and my former company hasn't paid me in a month. Awesome. So now I totally owe Carm money, and I have to run to the bank today so that I can actually pay this wonderful woman back for all her help and not look like a mooch.

It may be a Tuesday, but it feels like a Monday.

Why pseudo science makes my head hurt

Hannahbanana — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 00:44:48 GMT

When I was in college, I had the most awesomest of awesome Psychology professors OF. ALL. TIME. Dr. Rudski.

Dr. Rudski was a victim of a very serious and very real case of ADD. So much so in fact that everyone in his class learned to make our papers concise and to the point, which was very different from the other profs who wanted verbose and flowery. I loved Dr. Rudski. I would totally have had his little crazy babies.... but he was already married.

Anyway, that's not the point. The point is, one day in class he starts off saying, "We're going to talk about the difference between CORRELATION and CAUSATION. A CORRELATION is when two events appear to have a relationship to each other. You don't know exactly what that relationship is, but you know there IS one. A CAUSATION is when one event can be PROVEN to cause another."

Sexy, fucked up, AND smart. Totally my type.

Anyway, he used this great example that stays with me to this day:

In the Fall, kids go back to school. Also, geese fly south for the winter. That's a correlation: kids go to school, and geese fly south. You can't say that the children CAUSE the geese to fly, nor can you say that the geese CAUSE the kids to go to school.

I learned that in a Psych 101 course, and yet I see people like this who, though they SAY there is no causational relationship, act all excited and discuss their findings in terms of causationals.

Winter babies = kids who are more likely to quit school early? How does that make sense? Do you think kids hit 16 in the winter and think, "YES! Now I can drop out in the middle of the school year!" whereas summer kids are like, "Yeah, fuggit. I'll just do another two years, since I'm already half way through my summer."

What?

But since we're going with hairbrained theories, here's mine: since people with a stronger education tend to have fewer kids, their data has to be "stretched" mathematically to fit with the population of people who have poorer educations. So, let's say you have 100 couples who really got a bad shake at school, and 10 couples who went to the finest schools around. So, those 100 couples just have babies all year around, no particular pattern; but a December baby would probably be conceived in March or thereabouts. So, you get a couple of friskies on during March.

But the 10 couples, well, maybe they're professors, or business people, or whatever you like. March is a shitty time for professors; you have school you have things going on, and it's not much better for the business folks who are just getting funding for departments back and track and hiring and promotions and things like that. You're not really relaxed during March. But when are you maybe more relaxed? Oooooh, Thanksgiving sounds lovely. Things wind down, you relax, there's food, or at the very least, it's fall and nice and the colors are changing.... whatever.

So, if 5 out of the 10 couples have babies in the summer, you're like, "HOLY SHIT! THAT'S 50-FUCKING%!!"

But if the same 5 couples were in the 100 couple pool, that would be 5%.... and hardly worth mentioning.

So, what I'm trying to say is that I don't trust their comparison methods, and I think they're stupid sacks of shit. Mostly because I'm a December baby.

Anyway, that's my theory. It has nothing to do with "babies born in the winter are stoopid'r" it just has more to do with scheduling and realistic demands on life.

..... or, it could be space aliens.

Fuck it. It's the aliens.