Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

I really have little, if anything, in me to say about the NYC bombings this weekend.  Yet, parts of me feel the urge to pontificate . . . of course, there's also the questions from a couple of close friends wanting to know when I'll ponder. When 9-11 happened I was teaching a course--we were covering the Comstock Laws--and when Saddam Hussein was captured I was shoveling my car out of a blizzard.  When he was executed I was in rural Virginia for a holiday and packing, as I was headed to my first trip to Turkey that January.  When Osama Bin Laden was captured I was doing laundry in an urban, city 'hood fashion.   I pontificated here, probably one of the better ones . . . or not.   When bombs, of pressure cookers and burner phones, went off in NYC I was home . . . reading literature on Chinese American restaurants, blaring some "empowered women's mix" from Apple radio, and rotating with edits on a grant application to finally finish my Aegean Sea cultural st...

A few years ago I wrote a mini blog series to in coming freshmen . . . It was September.  Very true.  Very pertinent. Part one .  Part two . Now, as January turns to a bitter, icy grey and colleges reopen a different form of "that time of year" is back.  The spring semester, or also known as "the graduating semester." Le sigh.  Read on, you'll see why. Girls, boys, men, and women come into my office in various stages of fright.  They arrive in my inbox, and the appear in Skype and Facetime meetings, and in classes they teeter on the edges of chair gasping for breath.  Panics about jobs, getting them, getting into grad school, making money...Always the money comes up.  Yea, there's a bit of angsty haze this time of year.  Some good, some . . . well, a few emails this week struck me more than normal.  Amid the "Aw snap, I forgot," "What's going down up in here?" "and "You gots to help me" with arms flailed in the air ...

So, I went to Kentucky and then . . . well, I fell off the side of a frozen lake or somesuch.  Though, in all fairness, the busy chaos of my life is good in many ways.  Sometimes it is hell, but . . . With that being said. Jenny and Julie Learn to Sew.  Yes.  Yes. Though, they are learning via my friend Nat right now. Last weekend Nat came over to, literally, learn  to sew on the machine.  I let her use my trusty Bernina . . . what? It is sweetly quiet compared to the, ahem, loud  Singer.  Besides, when Bernie was in my Momma's possession--all those years--someone (and it may or may not have been me) may have taken her apart a few times for quick and dirty repairs.  So, I felt confident.  It all worked out.  Of course, it worked out as I was like . . . shit, I need to post a basics 101 before uploading my Have a Beer One Hour Convert pattern.  So . . . a few 411s for ya, as these are the basics of the basics.  Why?...

Button downs.  They are a classic staple.  A wardrobe go to.  Yet, they can cause nausea, disdain, and outright hatred in the form of spewing four lettered bombs deprecating anyone in earshot.  Why? The gape.  The gape of the stomach, making a tent like flutter occur.  Or . . . every woman's favorite  the boob gape.  Yea.  It's a thin line if I'd   rather show off the boobage or look like a balloon. For years I've avoided them, as I can't find one that will button around the double Ds.  Or, even worse, I find ones that button around the chest but  it is so loose up top that I end of looking like a DDDDD .  I shit you not.  Of course, you can always wear a tank underneath or a cami . . . but, seriously with a pencil skirt I often just want a clean line and look.  Well, since I am making my own clothes and not bad at it I decided to finally give the Grainline Studio Archer pattern a shot.  And, so I set out...

You're weekly round up for May . . . Saturday : Party at Erika and Bur's in CT, for which being a NYer and jaunting to CT for the weekend makes us sound very bourgeois. Cabo Halter in Amy Butler fabric with my wearable muslin Thurlows.  Yea, buddy.  On the real wear pair, this week, I'm going to down a size (these are cut on the 12) and I'll take off a 1/4 inch on the crotch.  Other than that, and shortening them (pre-cut) by three inches--I be short--they are a great pair of trousers.  I detest this cheap denim fabric, hence the use for a muslin, but it worked for what I wanted.  Though, I used a third generation zipper that has now broken . . . I tested, I love, I hate this fabric.  Job done.  I'm up in the air if I'll fix the zipper to wear them a couple of times and send to Goodwill. hmmm. Check that out: someone else's kitchen!  And, a friend took this.  Mr. Fairytale got the night off of photo shooting. Sunday ,...

There was a recent conference in Rome. I know woe is me that I went to Rome while under the larger guise of work. None– the– less, I went to Rome the week before Christmas (came stateside in time to do the Christmas tour of Dixie and spend New Year's at home in NYC).  But before going to the Eternal City, Tanfer had a few requests. Well, as usual, I obliged. Things like Listerine, Pam Cooking Spray, antacids, hand cream, and hair spray made the list.  She wanted Banana Quik, which after four grocery stores and two Targets I gave up the fight to research that it isn't widely available anymore.  So, I subbed hot cocoa instead. Well, aside from the breadth it all took up in my suitcase, the thought did cross my mind of how I might explain the giftable loot at customs. Well, multiple bottles of lotion, specialty hand creams, and such ... I had a plan that wasn't a complete fabrication.  Nope, instead just a minor exaggeration or two as in that I might spend ...

In 2012 the concept of a woman needing anything beyond her own wit and merit almost seems passe.  Yet, in this world of instant messages, ATMs, debit cards superseding checks, and steel-toes stilettos a women (or, girl if the term--like me--makes you feel a little more hip, at ease, and at peace within your changing skin) should have a little black book–– or a little black digital phone book–– filled with names beyond old lovers, forlorn exs, or divorce lawyers. These are the things, as I tell students, that just make life easier, richer, and full. A list, per se, that I deliver to Women's Studies when I can and to students, friends, and sometimes strangers when I see or feel the need . . . or just plain hate what I am hearing. In no particular order: 1. A former lover, partner du jour if you will, that is no longer a shag buddy.  Just merly a name and number in her book who she can text or call just to say hi.  Why? While not all rel...

A decade ago I was in grad school, working toward a Phd, and I was teaching my first class at Hofstra.  It was my first semester adjuncting, to supplement my stipend from TAing . . . those days are always filled with many things, ideals, and outright fears.  My 8-o-freaking-clock classes passed on, and I came to know my colleagues . . . Perhaps I should note that I am not the "famous" adjunct who got arrested that term.  In class. Yea, a favorite professor brought in a civil war weapon, and some shit called the Nassau poe poe saying there was a sniper on the Hofstra campus.  John was hauled off in silver bracelets.  *Excuse me while I laugh--like a retarded jackass--at the very fine memory of the chair telling me to not bring weapons to class . . . at John telling me the tale of having to the call the chair to bail him out . . . at the talk on campus.  Good times.* None-the-less, to this day I get jitters when giving my lecture involving the Comstock La...

I apologize in advance for typos. Mondays.  Diatribes about Mondays are easy to come by, and even on this blog I have posted one , two ,or some more .  Every now and then a Monday proves exceptional, causing a need for a brain dump, recharge, and maybe a bourbon or two.  Let's see . . . Monday for the making. 9:00am, first class.  I come into the classroom a few minutes early to see a student who hasn't been there in WEEKS waiting.  Walking in I remarked the he had returned, and he said "yea, I wanted to talk to you about that."  What did he want? He hasn't done any work all term, and I'm talking not a lick.  He wanted to sit-in on class and be able to pass . . . Did I tell you that he said he couldn't all semester because I have a policy that if you are more than ten minutes late you can't come in?  So it's my fault he couldn't get there on time? Yup, you know it . . . pass the bourbon, and it's not even 9:00am. Class wasn't ba...

Funny thing about college teaching . . . the first week is just that . . . and for the most part a wash of syllabi disbursement, the "this is what you will and will not do" lectures, and then the second class is disrupted by students with little sense of social decorum.  These are usually the ones who do not show up the first day of class.  Eh, don't get me wrong, I do what I love and love what I do . . . but, every now and then social disorder annoys me.   Along with the first week madness, there is the beginning of sign-ins.  Some students begin this task the first week.  Some start it the second week.  Most do it the second week, as the add-drop period ends.  Moments of advising the first week are never anything like the second, particularly if these students are in upper level seminars and grades have started coming in from the first week's assignments.  While advising times are established throughout the semester, any professor worth ...

One of my friends pondered if she could run around hitting people with a stick and yelling "It doesn't matter, it happened in the past."  I responded, in kind, with "If you wanna end up in the nuthouse pokey, sure."  Well, I'm not intending to run around with sticks, but the events of today are slipping into the past.  A crazy start, and a nice ending. The day started with a 25 mile commute turning into two hours.  Fun.  Two exits of the LIE were shut down, from an accident, and an investigation had to ensue.  Yup, someone died on the roadway.  I sent emails to a couple of students, while I sat in idle traffic, and got the class to start the quiz before I got there.  Slightly odd, but nerve wracking as I was supposed to be evaluated this morning.  My department chair was also trapped in said traffic, so we met for lunch and then he came to my last class of the day.  None-the-less, I was still nervous about the whole eval.  Turns o...