The Top Ten Reasons I will Never Be a "Hipster"...

....for better or worse.

10. I get far too excited over coupons. I recently responded to a snail mail consumer survey which promised some particularly exceptional ones in return for my efforts and opinions. I eventually received a coupon for a large sum of change off the purchase of a box of Dulcolax. As I hadn't indicated any issues with constipation, I'm uncertain why I was targeted for this particular offer of savings. Or maybe that's the jig...

9. I don't eat sushi, but I do eat fruit roll-ups. Apparently this isn't a parallel distinction of sophistication. Whatever. The strawberry ones are still as good now as they were when I was seven. Not many things in life are like that.

8. I don't have any skinny jeans and I've an insufficient store of angst. I might be able to consume a significant quantity of wine and work myself into a frenzy over U.S.-Cuba relations, air pollution, and my lack of spirituality, in order to simulate some degree of existentialist drama.

7. The only country outside the U.S. that I've visited is Canada, and my cultural exposure there was limited to my experiences with other patrons of the Thunder Bay Mall and the guests and staff at my hotel.


6. I do not play or have knowledge of a trendy instrument. I can perform a vague rendition of "Little Drummer Boy" on a keyboard or "Smells Like Teen Spirit" on a viola, but that is about the extent of my musical aptitude. I should note that I am above average at whistling.


5. I don't own any ironic t-shirts. Since the Republicans are predominantly out of office, I don't even own any politically offensive ones anymore. I really should work out a Bachmann tee, but she's almost so easy to mock that it takes some of the fun out of it. If I did make one, it would be screen-printed with a houndstooth pattern.

4. I am woefully ill-informed on a broad range of "underground" bands. I had time to keep up with this type of info when I was a teenager and divided my efforts between learning stuff, working at the drug store, and smoking, but now I have to sleep and work and clean up children's puke all the time. Sorry uber-cool punk bands- I'd love to know ya'.

3. I have begun to talk at length about my and others' present or previous health afflictions. I thought you weren't supposed to be inclined to do that until at least your mid-forties.
"Thirty is the new twenty", my ass.*

2. During the recent salmonella scare, I did not run to whole foods and buy organic peanut butter. That not only makes me insufficient material for hipster-dom, but a horrible human being in general. If you don't have to stir your peanut butter, you are probably trying to kill everyone in your household. Even Michelle Bachmann knows that.

1. I have not posted an anti-mass media diatribe anywhere on the internet in at least two months. I have, however, mocked several television news personalities in the presence of some acquaintances. Some (possibly most) of the mocking had to do with "Stupid Al Roker and his Smuckers jam," so it wasn't necessarily legitimate, hard-core criticism, but I think it should count for something.


*Get off my lawn.

He won't call me mama, but he sniffs my hair.

Sometimes the realizations of Jack's innermost thoughts and feelings are manifest in ways that require some really creative translation.

He missed me today and I could tell, because the first thing he did after body slamming me when he got off the bus was to grab a tangled wad of my curls, press it against his face, and inhale deeply. I suppose comfort smells like Pantene to him.

Sophie told me I'm a very "'telligent Mom", and Noel didn't entirely roll his eyes at the comment, so I'll take that as a double compliment.


Were it not for the fact that I fell off the deck trying to step onto a folding chair, absent-mindedly put on a shirt that had deodorant marks all over the sides, went outside in it, and did yardwork for half an hour, and am pretty certain the neighbors saw me riding my seven-year-old's very small "princess" bike up the alley because I was too lazy to walk it back to the garage, I could almost feel like a real winner...

Another Forty-Five Minutes of My Life I'll Never Get Back...

It's pretty much self-explanatory.

Be intimidated, local Dems and Lefties...

...by the Carlton County Conservatives who can't spell the name of our local community college correctly:

I would GLADLY give all the toes from one of my feet to anyone who could develop a "safe" cigarette.

I don't know why he/she would want my toes, but I am deadly serious.
I would do it.

I quit smoking in approximately July or August of 2006. I couldn't do it cold turkey, so I used nicotine gum.

I got addicted to the gum, and chewed it for the next 2+ years. I couldn't get off of it, so I went on the nicotine patch.

I used the nicotine patch and regular gum to wrest myself from the seductive grasp of my beloved "Equate" gum, and stopped using the patch when time was up.

I STILL WANT TO SMOKE.

Not just occasionally- every. damn. day.

I freely admit it; while other non-smokers swagger backward and frown when the wind sweeps a Marlboro cloud in their direction, I take a nice, deep breath in. I know it's poisonous second-hand exposure, but it's the only "bad" I can be, anymore.

Listen up, kids. As sexy as you might think it looks to slide a Camel between your long, outstretched fingers, draw it up to your lips, and take a long, salaciously sweet drag, before you know it, the outcome is this:

You're a thirty-one-year old woman at the park with your kids, trying to covertly position yourself downwind from a dirty-looking old man in a Miller Lite hat so you can suck some second-hand from his steadily burning GPC.

Just don't even start.

Jobs! Jobs! Jobs! It's almost impossible to be unemployed right now!

I recently made the transition from impending college graduate to unemployed college graduate/loser.

Truth be told, I am a bit selective in my choices of positions for which I will apply. Nevertheless, there is a veritable foaming sea of potential jobs surging and swelling at my well-qualified feet.

For my fellow unemployed cohorts, I offer the following list of gems, culled from the treasure chest of local jobs I like to call:

"JOBS IN THE DULUTH AND THE SURROUNDING AREA"
(The aforementioned title as posted on a reputable job bank site. Who needs writers and editors? Really?)

1. ASSEMBLY
Required skills include: good manual dexterity, the ability to sit for 8-10 hours per day, ability to see small parts, and a good/positive attitude.
-I don't know about you, but I have an excellent attitude about my ability to see small parts. That's fifty percent of the requirements right there. This could be golden.

2. CAGE CASHIER
It's not just regular cashiering, it's cashiering in a cage!
According to the posting, "Cage cashiers must at all times conduct themselves in a manner, which absolutely avoids even the appearance of wrongdoing."
-Yeah. If I look over at Cage Cashier #2, and she's wearing camel-toe pants, and I have a mocking thought, I'm going to realize that I'm thinking mean things, and I'm going to look guilty about that. I don't want to get locked in the cage overnight for looking guilty. I don't know about this one. It sounds dangerous.

3. DENTAL HYGIENIST
Education required: *blank* Experience required: "None."
-So I guess it might be a good idea to find out which clinic is hiring for the aforementioned position, so that you could NOT go there. Also, I'm surprised, frankly, that "must floss as though attempting to commit homicide by means of causing hemorrhagic gums" isn't a standard qualification.

4. "LAWN APPLICATOR"
Of note: this job requires passing an exam, and offers a clothing/uniform allowance.
-The position of "lawn applicator", presumably, involves the application of lawns onto other surfaces. I want a lawn on top of my regular lawn, so that when one gets dried out in the summer, I can just peel it back to expose the under-lawn.

5. SEWING MACHINE OPERATOR
Requirements: Must be able to measure using a standard ruler.
-Apparently, none but math majors need apply.

6. "MECHAIC"
Requirements: "mechanical experinece in small engine and light equipment. must know how to weld also... must be albe to lift 75 lbs."
-I have no experinece with being a mechaic, but I am TOTALLY albe to lift 74 pounds!
Jackpot!

7. MERCHANDISE BUYER-- DENIM
-I think this is what I already am. In fact, I am the merchandise buyer of a good many items, and have broad experience in buying merchandise. Yesterday I bought some expensive cheese, and it was not good, so I would not pursue a position as "Merchandise Buyer -- Cheese," but I think I could handle denim.

Isn't this just a fancy way of saying "shopper"?
Some people would be very mad that I said that.

8. "COMPUTER"
-If you are a computer, someone in Esko wants to hire you. This is a hedgy option. You never know if it's a request from someone who wants to word process on you, or look at clown porn. At the end of the day, you need to be able to respect yourself.

That's it. Good luck job hunting, or staking your fortunes on the outcomes of lottery ticket purchases. The odds of finding a winner in either pursuit appear to be roughly similar.

I walked outside this morning

and the world was different.

The cosmos in my garden were still brown and wilting. My neighbor's cars were lined up in the usual order in their driveway: silver car, red car, old blue truck pockmarked with rust. The streets were quiet. Lights were on in homes where people sluggishly readied themselves for another day of work. It was all as it always is, yet nothing felt the same.

Last night I witnessed an occurrence of such magnitude that it defies explanation or description. It didn't come in the form of some spectacular supernova, but on my television screen, in a steady sequence of small red and blue explosions. It happened as numbers ticked by and fate become increasingly apparent. It happened while my children watched and while the greater world held its collective breath.

I'm so tired today that I feel as though I'm still lingering in a dream. The last time I had a hand in electing a Democrat to the presidency, I was an eighteen-year old college kid. Now, I'm a mother with three children born into a world that has become increasingly ugly, due in no small part to the leadership that has served throughout most of their lives. I want them to see America and Americans as I saw it/them when things seemed sane and decent. Maybe now they'll have that chance.

When I watched the towers fall on 9/11, I was five months pregnant. I imagined the violence that would follow in response. I wondered what kind of a world I was bringing my child into. Last night I got a glimpse of what may define my country in the next years, and it was profoundly beautiful, in contrast.

The very same country who elected an inarticulate right-wing war monger four and eight years ago just swept in a brilliant young black man from Chicago. What a change, indeed.

It's supposed to snow this weekend. I've been generally sick of the white stuff, but today I don't even care. There's a bright sliver of sun slicing through the relentless gloom that has hung over this corner of the world like a stifling wet wool blanket.

I'll get a shovel, brace my back, and be ready to work. I expect no less from our president-elect, Barack Obama.