I had something else planned, but then I found out that my imaginary boyfriend is in town and my head exploded.
Jun 7th
My Imaginary Boyfriend.
Okay, so some of you may know (and some of you may not) that Bradley Whitford is my imaginary boyfriend. I know what you’re thinking right now. “Bradley…Whitford? But…why?” Well, shut your faces. I love him.
And I suspect that he loves me, too. That’s probably why he agreed to do Good Guys (Series Premier tonight on FOX!), a cop show filmed in Dallas.
No, I’m not a crazy stalker. At least, I don’t think I am.
My crush began when a little show called Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip aired back in 2006. I know, I know. That’s pretty late in the game. And also, those blonde highlights were…atrocious. But he played the incredibly witty and lovable Danny Tripp. A crush was born. It was, however, overshadowed by the Chandler Bing crush I had been nursing for the last decade. I LIKE FUNNY, PEOPLE.
And so I watched. And then, after only a season and a half, the show was canceled. I pulled myself together and moved forward. There was nothing else to do. Also, I didn’t know anything about a little show called West Wing (Oh, Josh Lyman, you give me the warm tinglies in my pretty parts). I just remembered that my dear Mr. Whitford had been the asshole in Billy Madison. So I watched that. And I still had a crush.
Then, I found West Wing (this year). Thanks to the ever-so-charming Peter De Wolf. I’ve watched the first two seasons and now I’m pretty sure that Mr. Whitford and I are supposed to be together. Yes, this is ridiculous. But I love him. I will be so disappointed if I ever meet him and he turns out to be stupid. He plays smart so well.
Mr. Whitford, please don’t be stupid, okay? For me.
I know that most people my age (30), have crushes on the likes of uh…actually, I have no idea. Let’s say Brad Pitt or George Clooney. And while those men are fine, they don’t have Mr. Whitford’s panache.
Yes, I just used “panache.” Deal with it. And while he may not do it for you, and he probably doesn’t have women throwing panties at him from the side of the road or anything, I think he’s great.
This morning, as I was pulling up to work, I got a text message from @justdevin (My co-host for Runsheet Radio. Listen and watch Thursdays from 10:00 pm to midnight!) with a picture of my imaginary boyfriend and some other people from his show Good Guys. Cue head explosion.
BECAUSE HE IS IN TOWN RIGHT NOW. And I didn’t realize what day or time. It’s not that I’m crying about it or anything, but I do feel a bit shouty. I mean, it’s obvious that he wants to meet me, right? Why else would he keep coming back to Dallas? WHY DIDN’T I WAKE UP IN TIME TO SHOWER THIS MORNING?
/headexplosion
Okay, my calm pants are now back on. Mr. Whitford, I’m sure if you just gave me a chance, you would find me charming and adorable. Oh, and I love dogs (I hear you have one). I’m not the skinniest girl in the world, and I will probably never be famous, but I can assure I’ll make you dinner and I’ll always get up to get you a beer. Let’s be friends. With benefits…that lead to dating and stuff. But no kids, okay? Unless you really want them. Then we can ask Angelina where she keeps getting hers, because my lady parts don’t really dig on the idea of being stretched to all oblivion just to birth a screaming thing that doesn’t speak English. See? When I put it that way, it doesn’t sound so awesome, right? I make really good pancakes. Also, you can keep the mustache, but I’m not happy about it.
And see how cute I am?
My glasses are really cute, too. Also, I sort of know how to sail. Just sayin'. If that's something you're interested in. Call me.
Femme Writes – It’s Sexual Harassment Day!
Jun 5th
On the 5th of every month, bloggers from around the world are open to write about rights and issues concerning women. First started by Shine and Marie, we’re hoping to bring a variety of women’s issues to the forefront to make people aware of what’s going on. For the month of June, we’ve chosen to write about Women in the Workplace. Please join us in telling us your stories, thoughts, and ideas on a monthly basis. To read previous installments, click here.
I work for a small company. My boss argues that we’re not a really small company because there are six of us, instead of one. I argue that he’s grasping at straws with that one.
I want to start by saying that my boss is actually not a bad guy. I believe that he genuinely cares about me, and I’ve actually seen some improvement in his behavior toward me in the last few months. Possibly because I take three giant steps backwards every time he comes near me. But really, he’s not a bad guy.
My boss is 67 years old. He has lived most of his life in another era. I’m not making excuses, just telling you how it is. However, his behavior toward women, particularly me, is pretty appalling.
Most days, it’s a hand on the small of my back or an awkward hug or a poke in my tummy. While those things all make me uncomfortable, I can live through them. Everything changed the day he tried to pluck a stray hair (that had fallen from my head) lying on my boob. Four times. I was in utter shock the first three times. After the fourth, I said, “I’m pretty sure I can get that myself. Back off.”
Mind you, this was after he told a completely inappropriate story, in which the words “she put his penis in her mouth” were used more than once, to one of my female coworkers. And this is on top of all the times he complimented my outfit, or the outfits of my female coworkers (there are now only two of us).
Then there was the day that he compared writing reports to making the sex.
And the day he smacked my ass when I was getting a trash bag from under the sink. The second ass-smacking was while I was fixing the toilet.
If I wear a dress or skirt to work, I can expect him to say something about my legs or some other part of my anatomy. And it’s not just him. Several of my male coworkers do it. Because he’s the one setting the example for how women should be treated at our office.
Now, here’s where things get tricky. I know that some people will argue that I should go in, curse at him, and walk out on my principles. While that’s one choice, it’s not the only one. Frankly, my principles don’t pay the bills and I need this job. You know, until other people start realizing I’m a big deal and I get paid to do something else. For now? I need this job.
If I go in and confront my boss in any way that he’ll understand, things will be so uncomfortable and awkward at work I’ll basically have to quit. I get paid pretty well for what I do and I like that my job gives me time to write and that I don’t have to take it home with me very often and that my schedule can be pretty flexible.
I did get so frustrated at one point that I asked a lawyer about my options. I was told that employees can’t really sue for sexual harassment in offices with less than 15 employees. I haven’t followed up on that, and I’m sure if I wanted to make a huge deal about it, I could sue, no matter the size of my office. But is it worth it? I do as much as I can to talk to my boss about the issue indirectly. I move away from him very purposefully when he tries to touch me. When he makes comments about other women, I tell him it’s inappropriate.
And the truth is? I’m good at my job. My boss actually does respect my opinions and he values my input. I’m not claiming that his actions are justified, just that there’s more than one way to look at the issue.
These are the lines we walk as women. I hate it that we have to endure comments on our appearance and countless inappropriate stories and awkward physical contact. I don’t think we should take it lying down. If I worked at a larger company, I would happily lodge a complaint. Even though lodging that complaint would have its own consequences.
So I ask you, readers, what do you think about this? Should I walk away? Would it even be any different anywhere else? Do the benefits outweigh the discomfort? What would you do?
It’s Friday, we should break up – Being a normal girl who, you know, DOESN’T co-host a webio.
Jun 4th
If something has pissed you off this week (or month, or year), BREAK UP WITH IT! Participate in Shine’s Friday Breakup and link back to the hub.
For those of you not in the know, webio = web + radio. I think I made that up.
Last night was the very first episode (Episode? Is that the right word?) of Runsheet Radio (You should maybe follow us on Twitter. If you want. @Runsheetradio ), brain child of editor-in-chief of Red Carpet Crash, Devin Pike. I can say for sure that it wasn’t the life-ending disaster I thought it would be. I made it through two hours and, though I was sweating buckets at the very idea that ANYONE might be listening, I didn’t pass out or puke or die. It was close on the puking, though.
Several things of which I was not aware until far too late (in my opinion):
- We would be streaming live effing video on the web.
- People who know me were actually going to watch and listen.
- There would be a chat room where those people could converse with each other about the topics we were discussing. And some we weren’t.
- There is a little red button that mutes the mic on the off-chance you have to, say, COUGH. I didn’t realize this until the show was over.
- Head phones squish your hair, making hair flips necessary.
- Hair flips get people drunk.
- Devin is one gassy motherfucker. And he had Taco Bell for dinner.
Knowing about the red button would have been REALLY nice. I spent two hours trying not to cough. Unless we were on commercial break.
Knowing about Devin’s taco burps probably wouldn’t have done me any good.
I found out about the chat room after we had been airing for about 20 minutes. A quick IM to @rjcannon85 to make sure I didn’t sound like a complete jackass (because she would actually tell me) confirmed that she was listening and that there was a chat room and that the members of the chat room were playing a drinking game.
Shit.
Basically, Devin ( @justdevin ) has a hair flipping problem that goes back to childhood. I had a combination of nerves and squishy microphone hair, leading me to hair flip more than usual. They were all drinking every time one of us hair flipped. It was like a rank taco burping Herbal Essences commercial up in that bitch. And our listeners were DRUNK.
At some point, there was talk of an ewok centipede baby (I really couldn’t explain this one). I almost lost my shit. But it was the placenta cupcake that pushed me over the edge.
So here’s to you @nataliecottrell , @eveningsketches , @bradleyfields , @DysFuncJunc , @rjcannon85 , @jayferris , @spicyem , @matrixmechanic , and anyone I’ve forgotten (It was hard to keep an eye on all the names. I was working). You win. Placenta cupcakes and hair flips for everyone!
I think the highlight of the show was when @DysFuncJunc called in to talk about her boobs. She swears that’s not why she called in, but I know the truth. She just named them, you see. They are Shock and Awe. Which I love. She gave @rsub27 a shout-out for his second place name choice “Weapons of Mass Destruction.”
What do you say, guys? Shall we make it a weekly date? Everyone check out Runsheet Radio, every Thursday night from 10:00pm to Midnight. It’s almost a guarantee that I will inadvertently flash my boobs at you at some point. Or talk about my vagina (this week, only Rue’s got a mention). Or make an ass of myself.
So we’re over, being a normal girl. It’s been fun. But now, Shine is on the radio.
Holy crap.
Hold me.
ALSO! Please don’t forget, tomorrow is our third installment of Femme Writes. The topic this month is Women in the Workplace. We’ll be posting links through Monday, because we know it’s a lot to ask you guys to write something on a weekend. Please click here for all the details and don’t forget to send us your link. Grab the badge from the Femme Writes sidebar.
I was going to write a blog today, but instead I’m going to freak out about this radio situation.
Jun 3rd
Yeah.
That’s about it.
Tonight, from 10:00 pm to midnight, your very own Shine will be on the radio. Probably sounding like a jackass.
Oh, and actually, it’s not so much “on the radio” for the first couple of weeks. It’s more “streaming live on the internets.”
I’m scared that I just saw live streaming VIDEO on the website and I haven’t showered and I’m so not prepared for that and it’s clear that the person who asked me to do this doesn’t realize that putting a microphone in front of my face and a camera on me is the fastest way to get me to shut up, which, actually, probably some of my ex-boyfriends would have been happy to know now that I think about it, but it’s too late now and oh my god I’m scared. Hold me.
Oh, and for now there’s a rough website for our show here. But I just looked at it and I’m pretty sure there’s no actual useful information on it. Sorry about that.
In other news, my MOTHER told my grandparents that I have a blog. Which means, of course, that my Nana was like, “I WANT TO READ HER BLOG!” Oh, magic carrot in the sky, why did you give my grandparents knowledge of the internets? Is this still about that whole apple in the Garden of Eden thing? We should really move past that, m’kay?
Anyway, mom told Nana (and I’m not making this up), “Oh, I don’t think Shine wants us to read her blog. She talks about us and doesn’t want to have to censor herself.”
REALLY MOM?
So now my Nana is mad at ME for talking about her on the internets and I didn’t even DO ANYTHING. Thanks mom.
FML.
Hi, Nana and Pops. If you find this, your granddaughter is an atheist. She has sex. She drinks. She says “fuck” a lot and talks about vaginas more than necessary. Aren’t you glad you’re reading this?
Okay, that’s just too far.
Jun 2nd
I was skeptical about Twitter at first, y’all. Really, I was. And now we have a love affair for the ages. I assume most people either love Facebook or they love Twitter (MySpace, what?), but few are equally excited about both.
I’m looking at you, LiLu, master of all sharing your thoughts via social networking.
I never even think about Facebook (Oh, but I made my blog a page thingy! Go like it!) updating.
But now, Twitter, you’ve gone too effing far. I’m not sure it’s really your fault, aside from the fact that you EXIST.
There are few things I find more bizarre than people who set up Twitter accounts for their pets. Your pets do not need social media. Take your dog to the dog park, she doesn’t need you to tweet in her voice. Now, it’s gone one step further. According to this article on Mashable, your cat can now tweet. Your cat. On Twitter. Without supervision.
I guess that will be when he’s on break from pissing in your purse or opening all your cabinets or destroying your mini-blinds. Please, Twitter, make this stop. What’s next? Your cat needs a cell phone?
I have no idea why this is only for cats and not dogs. Probably because your dog’s too busy licking his balls to be worried about tweeting. Maybe you should be, too.
