Day 197: If I Ruled Lichtenstein... Boys Would Be Happy With "My Little Ponies"

I watched a YouTube video today in which Jimmy Kimmel challenged parents to allow their children to open one Christmas gift early. The catch was, the parents were to find and wrap gifts their kids wouldn't like, and then film their reactions.

Kids were given a range of gifts from half-eaten sandwiches to a stapler to a battery.

Other kids were given toys or clothes specifically made for the other sex, i.e. one boy was given a set of "My Little Pony" toys and another was given a "Hello Kitty" sweater.

While the reactions from the kids that were given random items, like toilet paper, were confusion or disappointment, the reactions from the boys that were given "girls" toys were different. These boys were furious.

The boy given the ponies threw them and repeatedly said, "These are for girls!"

The boy given the pink and purple sweater stomped around the house screaming and crying that he got a "stupid 'Hello Kitty' sweater" and that he "hated" his parents for giving it to him.

While the "Hello Kitty" kid was a spoiled brat, I was surprised at the fury of the other boys who got girls gifts. Are boys incapable of playing with horse toys? Is it just because it's pink that it's "for girls?"

My favorite toys growing up were dolls, action figures, and racecars. I played with all of these toys with my brother. I didn't mind playing with our Ninja Turtle and Masters of the Universe action figures--traditionally thought of as "boys" toys--just as he never minded playing with Cabbage Patch dolls--traditionally thought of as "girls" toys.

We even each had our own dolls--mine was named James and his was named Matthew and James always told Matthew to do dishes and Matthew always broke them.

It bothers me that there is such a divide with toys. Even at any store there are very distinct, separate aisles for girls toys and boys toys and then one for board games.

In Lichtenstein, there will be no such thing as "boys" and "girls" toys. There will be a toy section in every store with just toys. Maybe a little boy wants to play dress-up and a girl wants to play with toy guns. That will be OK.

Plus, there are so many kids who don't have toys that kids in Lichtenstein will be brought up to appreciate any toy that they have. Regardless of the color of the pony's mane.

Day 196: What Did Batman Say To Robin... About Judging My Sweatpants

Holy dance like nobody's watching Batman!

What would you do differently if you knew nobody would judge you?

The answer to this question came to me immediately. And all of it revolves around my appearance.

People judge others the second they see them. It could be the way you're dressed, the way you wear your hair, what or whom you have with you, how you're standing, and even the expression on your face.


This is why women wear makeup, shave, worry about pimples, put goop in their hair, wear contacts, spend too much on clothes, etc.

For me, I know I am more uncomfortable than not because the second I get home from week, I tear off whatever outfit I was wearing and trade it for sweats or sweat shorts.

During the winter I'm usually too cold because I'm a woman and women are supposed to wear skirts or thin pants, heels or other footwear that does not cover the tops of our feet, and form-fitting shirts that are not designed for warmth or comfort.

And on weekends when I am just at home and can wear and look however I want, I never put on makeup or contacts, always throw my hair back in a messy ponytail, and again, am always found in sweats or sweat shorts. 

I would love to go to a restaurant wearing sweatpants or out in public without bothering to do my hair, but don't because I know society - and whomever I'm with at the time - deems it not OK.


So if no one was judging, I'd look however I felt comfortable. And would be happy about never having to shave my legs again. Awesome.

Day 195: Never Have I Ever... Made The Most Epic Christmas Tree

The marketing director at work e-mailed my team early today asking us if we were up for a challenge. Attached to the e-mail was a photo of a Christmas tree made of books. The challenge was to make our own Christmas tree made of books made by our company to send out with a Christmas card to our customers.

Challenge accepted.

So I grabbed our company's green screen, and went to work borrowing my colleagues' encyclopedia sets from their desks or offices. ("Hey Brian, can I borrow something from your desk? I only need, like, 26 of your books.")


Then, with the help of my team, we built and decorated this:

Epic, right? 

Afterward, we added these to what's now referred to as the "Christmas cube":

And all this is in the cube located kitty-corner from me so I pass it whenever I leave or come back to my desk. And my colleagues are constantly coming by, snapping photos, and saying "you guys are just so creative!" 

That we are. Epic.

Day 194: Shakespeare's High School Poetry... On Freezing Cold to Toasty Warm

A Diamante is a seven-lined contrast poem set up in a diamond shape. The formula for the poem is strict but, if followed, naturally makes the diamond shape take form.

The first line begins with a noun or subject, and the last line ends with the first noun's antonym or synonym. I like the idea of the contrast, so I plan to follow the antonym form of the poem.

The second line contains two adjectives that describe the beginning noun. The third line contains three words ending in -ing relating to the noun/subject.

The fourth line is where the poem begins to shift. It contains two words that describe the noun/subject and two that describe the closing antonym.

In the fifth line contains three more -ing words describing the ending antonym, and the sixth has two more adjectives describing the ending antonym. The last line ends with the first noun's antonym.

This poem was inspired especially by how my feet feel all winter until I get in my evening hot shower.

Cold

 Winter, snow

Shivering, chattering, freezing

High heels at work, slippers at home

Toasting, sweating, heating

Socks, sweats

Warm

Day 193: A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words... Ghostlike

There's Caucasian, and then there's albino.

Last week's cliche: He's Got Alligator Blood

Day 192: Stop. Focus. Click... On Smart Monkeys

I jammed my middle finger recently, and taped it to my ring finger to keep it from bending so it could heal. My colleague, Heather, asked to sign my tape cast-style and chose to memorialize the "Smart monkey" song and dance that I do when I have accomplished a particularly difficult task at work.

And now I'm walking around sporting a smiling penis. At least it's a conversation-starter.

Day 191: Remember the Time... I Love London Bridge

During the first week of my job, I was eating by myself in the lunchroom and one of my colleagues took it upon herself to introduce me to everyone who was in the lunchroom whom I hadn't yet had the chance to meet. 

She then informed me that she and the three people sitting at the table with her were playing bridge, which is the equivalent of golf at my company when it comes to everyone just below the highest executive level (those at the highest levels, like the president, do actually play golf). 

All I knew about bridge at the time was that it was a four-player game where everyone sat in a place with the name of a direction - north, south, east, and west - and it was one that seemed popular in the Peach section of The Blade.


But I love playing cards and loved the idea of taking a break in the middle of the workday to play a game with my colleagues, so I asked if I could learn the game. Apparently, one of the avid bridge players holds classes to teach the game, which includes handouts and homework. He hadn't held a class in awhile, so since I was interested, he found one other person to teach and another who needed a refresher.


He then informed me that the class would be for 6 weeks every Thursday. The first class focused on simply learning the basics of the game from the suits to counting the number of points in your hand. Weeks two and three focused on bidding conventions. Week four brought it all together where we actually played a few hands with all the cards face up on the table, and discussed finesses. Week five tested us with cards in our hands, and week six lent itself to scoring and slam bidding.


It's now been several months, and I've played at least once a week - sometimes two or three times a week - and I'm still constantly asking questions during this very fun, yet extremely challenging game. There are piles of conventions to this game - some of which even the most experienced bridge players don't even know about. Luckily, my colleagues are patient with my inexperience and have learned to simply roll their eyes and shake their heads when I declare that I don't like the term "dummy" for the partner of the declarer, and have taken to calling that person the "smarty."

But I absolutely love playing bridge, even though the younger people in my company tease me for being an old lady playing her bridge.

Remember the time I am going to kick ass when I'm old, living in a retirement home, and have 50 years of bridge experience under my belt?


I love it so much, in fact, that one day my colleague Brian and I couldn't find a third and fourth player, so we started playing Rummy, got bored, and then decided to play two-handed bridge (this does not exist). Essentially, we were playing for both ourselves and our "partners". Confusion and hilarity ensued.


I have even taken it upon myself to name the four of us who meet every Wednesday at 11:45 to play the game "London Bridge" - to the absolute dismay of the two guys I play with and the delight of the other girl I play with.


The day I came up with the name, I turned to the elite bridge players (the ones who have been playing for 10 years or more and who have entered, and won, bridge tournaments), who happened to have a game going next to us, and informed them that our bridge club was named London Bridge. I then asked them what their bridge club name was and one guy glanced over at me with slanted eyes and said, without missing a beat, "THE Bridge Club." Owned.