The Way I See It vs. Flavorology

Have you all read about how Starbucks is coming under attack from some conservative groups who feel that the quotes printed on the cups are bad for America? According to the Seattle Times, it was the Armistad Maupin quote that stirred up the most controversy: "My only regret about being gay is that I repressed it for too long. I surrendered my youth to the people I feared when I could have been out there loving someone. Don't make that mistake yourself. Life's too damn short."

Perhaps as an attempt to show Starbucks how it's done, Dunkin' Donuts has started to decorate their less environmentally sound (not nearly as liberal) cups with reading material. The new DD campaign is called "Flavorology." This morning the side of my cup read, "What does your coffee say about you? If you LOVE caramel...you remain smooth even when things are sticky. Your MYSTIC match: Marshmellow & Blueberry."

Hey. I like caramel! Well then, it's settled. I just need to find a hottie who likes marshmellow and/or blueberry flavored coffee. I predict that this will be much easier than coming out of the closet. Now if only Dunkin' Donuts coffee had enough caffeine to actually wake me up.

http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/localnews/2002455480_starbucks29m.html

Very, Very Strange

http://abcnews.go.com/Primetime/story?id=1231684&page=1&CMP=OTC-RSSFeeds0312

Stolen Joke

Ok, I took this find from Fletcher but it's really funny. I mean, more funny if you make the person really ugly and cumbersome and then they have to dance. I do wish there were more outrageous clothes, though. Once again, thank you GAP.

joking about rights

Today we all had a good laugh at my law firm. In court, the judge asked one of my lawyers if he would like to explain his client's rights to the client or if the lawyer would prefer that the judge explain the client's rights.

My lawyer had let his mind drift for a moment, which, of course we all do during even during quite important moments, and responded: "No, your honor, that won't be necessary." The judge looked at him quizically, said "Uh, well someone has to so I guess I will" and proceeded to explain to the client what his rights are.

Since at least a few of us are employed by law firms, we know that lawyers often take themselves way too seriously. Sometimes it's good to have a good chuckle over telling the judge that the client doesn't need his rights. It's no Boston Legal or Night Court, but still, it's funny and brightened my otherwise dull Thursday afternoon.

Jews on Wheels

Possible responses to the question "Are you Jewish?" when posed to people who pass by the Chabad Lubavitch Sukkah Mobile on the corner of 86th and 3rd:

• "It's complicated."
• "Do you want me to be?"
• "No, but my boyfriend is."
• "Half."
• "No, I'm Puerto Rican." (I actually heard someone say that.)

And my personal favorite:

• "Yeah, why, are you?"

Anybody have any other suggestions?

Cry me a River

There was an article in the NYT Thursday Styles yesterday which I suggest everyone read before they make you have to pay for it. It's about women crying on the job, especially when they're just starting out. It's great, mostly I think because I learned that women actually are more physiologically prone to cry when frustrated than men. This makes sense and also makes me feel a whole lot less crazy. Thinking back to my old job and the mean men there always gives me the shivers but I sometimes remember the time I cried in front of the meanest one (I cried in private on multiple occasions) and what a loser I felt like. Nice to know at least I'm not alone and not atypical. Best tip? Don't run to the bathroom to cry... better tip? Don't work with meanies.

Anonymity: Friendster in the Physical World

Weekend before last I went to a party, the host of which is so far removed from me it hardly worth describing (I'll try-- a friend of my friend's roommate). I headed for the bathroom and saw this very pretty and distictive-looking black girl I immediately recognized from the subway. I couldn't place when or where, but I knew I'd seen her. I was, luckily, enough beers into the night to start doing things for their story-value. So I walked by, stopped and told her I recognized her from the train. She looked at me, paused, and admitted she recognized me, too. Then she said, "You must live around me, you got off at Franklin." Some small talk ensued, mostly about how I don't actually live there, hey look we have the same shoes, mine are from DSW, yours too? And I went to the bathroom. And then I had time to think-- how incredible! I walk around all of the time looking at people and always kind of assuming they're not looking at me. Frankly it's not totally shocking she recognized me-- since probably any white girl getting off at Franklin is more noticeable than even the most striking black girl-- but still. There is this feeling of anonymity in New York that can be total horseshit. If you walk down 7th Avenue in Park Slope picking your nose, this will trump any kind of brilliant comments you made in Anthropology of African Americans in the minds of a frightening number of Wesleyan alums.
But it's always kind of eerie, being told that someone saw you somewhere when you were totally unaware. Anyway, this little parable fits nicely within the Friendster situation-- learning that randies look at me as I look at randies is kind of reassuring/makes one feel less crazy or like some kind of gossip/information whore. But PLEASE this should only go one way. Ridiculous as it may be and possibly impossible, I'll say it clearly, I WANT TO SEE WHO LOOKS AT ME AND NO WAY IN HELL DO I WANT OTHERS TO SEE WHO I LOOK AT. If we could work something similar out in the physical world (like if no one could see you when inappropriately ogling someone's deformity) that would be great, too.

Ten Years Ago Today...

Ten years ago today the OJ Simpson verdict was announced. I guess I could go on about the verdict, whats happened since and some diatribe about race and... but I won't. What strikes me most, is that the OJ Simpson verdict was announced TEN YEARS AGO. This past weekend was full of people from the past, real kind of retrospective on the lifetime that these first 24 years has been building. Ten years ago I was sitting in Honors World Studies, Ms. Lindstrom's class. I was a freshman in high school.
This weekend I went to the Brooklyn Museum, a bar and a party with some people who were in that class. Most of them I hadn't seen since they graduated in 1998. We had never really been friends, more acquaintances. When my contact-friend called on Saturday night and said she was at the museum with them, they wanted to see me, the fourteen-year-old that lives in my heart was surprised. I was rememberable? I don't remember when I was like then. I have no idea. As we were hanging out, I realized that they weren't especially funny. Or, at least, not funny in the ways I have come to expect from my friends. Was I funny when I was 16? Am I funny now? When did that happen? If you're reunited with someone you had a crush on when you were 16, or who had a crush on you... what is supposed to happen? How can you not find yourself wanting to ask, "why did you like me?" "or I like you?" Why did I have crushes on people? Because they seemed different or cool or because I was bored? I don't remember how I was, but I remember being angry and confused a lot. Or being really, really sure of things I now think are stupid and irrelevent and not representative of the person I am or I want to.
The high school theme continued through the weekend when I went to a friend's birthday barbecue. On the way, I ran into a friend from Wesleyan who had moved to the neighborhood. She asked where I was going and I started to respond when I remembered that she and the birthday boy had gone to high school together. I told her it was his birthday. She said, "oh, I used to have such a crush on him... when he'd draw in Spanish class instead of pay attention." Walking to his house I thought more about high school and how as far away as it feels, seeing people from that era can bring a lot of weird feeling back. Like you can smell it all again or something. But, for me, it smells better the second time. At the birthday party his friend from college told me I should carry the candle-in-a-muffin out to him, since I was his oldest friend there. We were campers together when we were sixteen. Part of what I think I do value about that friendship is that while I may not remember what I was like when I was sixteen, our friendship proves there was enough good then to attract good people.
OJ Simpson makes me feel old. Which makes me feel young because I know 24 is not old. But ten years ago, OJ was acquited. Until September 11, OJ Simpson was our JFK assasination. It was a touchstone of popular culture, it was a "where were you" moment. We are alive, we were aware, we were what would become the people we are now, we were learning about the Reformation (maybe just my class) and it blows my mind that it was ten years ago.