On cute things...

Oh, it's terrible. Here I am, nearly thirty, and yet the 11-year-old in me has taken over and can't stop typing this (WHAT UP BUDS?!!? LOL).

Anyhow. This has been bringing me an obnoxious amount of amusement today:

Tag surf: invisible at http://icanhascheezburger.com/

My favorites:





And oh, jebus, LOVE this one:



Maybe if the 11-year-old Me sticks around long enough she will maybe let you see her depth and maturity via some rilly rilly heartfelt diary entries. Only time will tell.

Oh, Jesus. No, not literally.

The "lovely" Ann Coulter on CNBC:

COULTER: ... Well, OK, take the Republican National Convention. People were happy. They’re Christian. They’re tolerant. They defend America, they —

DEUTSCH: Christian — so we should be Christian? It would be better if we were all Christian?

COULTER: Yes.

DEUTSCH: We should all be Christian?

COULTER: Yes. Would you like to come to church with me, Donny?

DEUTSCH: So I should not be a Jew, I should be a Christian, and this would be a better place?

COULTER: Well, you could be a practicing Jew, but you’re not.

DEUTSCH: I actually am. That’s not true. I really am. But — so we would be better if we were — if people — if there were no Jews, no Buddhists —

COULTER: Whenever I’m harangued by —

DEUTSCH: — in this country? You can’t believe that.

COULTER: — you know, liberals on diversity —

DEUTSCH: Here you go again.

COULTER: No, it’s true. I give all of these speeches at megachurches across America, and the one thing that’s really striking about it is how utterly, completely diverse they are, and completely unself-consciously. You walk past a mixed-race couple in New York, and it’s like they have a chip on their shoulder. They’re just waiting for somebody to say something, as if anybody would. And —

DEUTSCH: I don’t agree with that. I don’t agree with that at all. Maybe you have the chip looking at them. I see a lot of interracial couples, and I don’t see any more or less chips there either way. That’s erroneous.

COULTER: No. In fact, there was an entire “Seinfeld” episode about Elaine and her boyfriend dating because they wanted to be a mixed-race couple, so you’re lying.

DEUTSCH: Oh, because of some “Seinfeld” episode? OK.

COULTER: But yeah, I think that’s reflective of what’s going on in the culture, but it is completely striking that at these huge megachurches — the idea that, you know, the more Christian you are, the less tolerant you would be is preposterous.

DEUTSCH: That isn’t what I said, but you said I should not — we should just throw Judaism away and we should all be Christians, then, or —

COULTER: Yeah.

DEUTSCH: Really?

COULTER: Well, it’s a lot easier. It’s kind of a fast track.

DEUTSCH: Really?

COULTER: Yeah. You have to obey.

DEUTSCH: You can’t possibly believe that.

COULTER: Yes.

DEUTSCH: You can’t possibly — you’re too educated, you can’t — you’re like my friend in —

COULTER: Do you know what Christianity is? We believe your religion, but you have to obey.

DEUTSCH: No, no, no, but I mean —

COULTER: We have the fast-track program.

DEUTSCH: Why don’t I put you with the head of Iran? I mean, come on. You can’t believe that.

COULTER: The head of Iran is not a Christian.

DEUTSCH: No, but in fact, “Let’s wipe Israel” —

COULTER: I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention.

DEUTSCH: “Let’s wipe Israel off the earth.” I mean, what, no Jews?

COULTER: No, we think — we just want Jews to be perfected, as they say.

DEUTSCH: Wow, you didn’t really say that, did you?

COULTER: Yes. That is what Christianity is. We believe the Old Testament, but ours is more like Federal Express. You have to obey laws. We know we’re all sinners —

DEUTSCH: In my old days, I would have argued — when you say something absurd like that, there’s no —

COULTER: What’s absurd?

DEUTSCH: Jews are going to be perfected. I’m going to go off and try to perfect myself —

COULTER: Well, that’s what the New Testament says.

DEUTSCH: Ann Coulter, author of “If Democrats Had Any Brains, They’d Be Republicans,” and if Ann Coulter had any brains, she would not say Jews need to be perfected. I’m offended by that personally. And we’ll have more “Big Idea” when we come back.

On Halloween Costumes

I have, like, 5 trump card stories in the ol' filing cabinet. A joke that is guaranteed to insult everyone who hears it, plus 4 knock-socks-off stories from my past. Like a blankie, I cling to them in times of need.

Last night I was hanging out with friends and the subject of Halloween costumes came up. 'Tis the season and all that. So, the Boyfriend said: "Ester, tell them about the time your mom dressed up in blackface!"

Ah, yes, Trump Card Story #3. But first, back story*.

First of all, my mother is white. She is also an activist. And a sociologist... was a professor, and an aerobics instructor. Really. She's a pretty good novice photographer, too. In the 80's she was obsessed with taking pictures of industrial patterns -- like street grates with gnarly shadows running across. But amid all of these talents, I suspect that there is also a tiny little punk rock grrrl hiding inside of her that was forced to remain dormant much of her academic, motherly adult life. And so, every once in a while and much to my horror, it would emerge.

Example 1: When she dyed the short hair at the nape of her neck bright purple and had her initials carved in.

Example 2: Another Halloween costume, Betty Poop. I'll leave that to the imagination.

So, Halloween 1991. This was the year that the Clarence Thomas supreme court hearings were taking place. Anita Hill took Judge Thomas to court for sexual harassment, and we watched a lot of the hearings as a family. It was a landmark case, and very important to my activist, feminist mom. It really was a cruel showing of the American judicial system, and we watched dignity just get torn to shreds by the unrelenting mockery and corruption of a system and by Judge Thomas himself, despite Anita Hill's poise and intelligence. (For more on this I highly recommend http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anita_Hill.)

My mom decided to show her support for Anita Hill. How, might you ask?

By dressing up as Clarence Thomas, complete with judicial robes, blackface, and -- wait for it --eraser caps stuck up her nose to flare her nostrils. She carried a set of scales with a black barbie doll dressed as Anita Hill on one side and a Pepsi can with a curly wire (again, see Wikipedia) on the other.

I was 13.

You can imagine, I'm sure, what it's like to be in that rare position of horror. While I am, and have always been, proud of my mother's commitment to social justice, this was TOTALLY humiliating. And I will say that a major part of her activism is around racial inequality. But STILL. And yet, there was some small well of pride that I felt as well. 'Cause it was ballsy. You know what this made me? A little neurotic.

And yet, she did give me Trump Card #3. And I love this story. More than the shocking joke. So what's a girl to do?... except dress up as Condaleeza Rice this year. I'm kidding. Mostly.

* Let it be said that I love my mom very, very much. She is my hero, for sure.

On Bruising

First things first. I am a girl. A girl who was once upon a time took dance classes, somewhat successfully, in her youth. Granted, they weren't pulling me for solos at the recital, but you know. I COULD HOLD MY OWN FROM THE BACK ROW OF 6 YEAR-OLDS.

Side Note 1: This was not true during one summer when I was in a dance that consisted of a lot of hand holding and running around in a line. That summer I tripped and fell and chipped a front tooth. But I blame my friend Abby for that anyhow, and the whole story deserves its own entry another time.

Side Note 2: But you know what WAS awesome? The year that my ballet class did a dance to the STAR WARS THEME SONG. Do you know what we all dressed up as? Princess Leah. All of us. Complete with yarn-bun headbands.

Anyhow. The point is that I was semi-functional when it came to grace. And now I am not.

I don't know when The Change happened. I think it was freshman year of college, when my falling-to-embarrassment ratio was at it's peak, go figure. But now I have a seriously hard time walking down the street without falling into something or tripping over something. High heels? NO WAY I WOULD DIE.

But the best part is that I barely notice anymore. Which brings us to Mystery Bruises, my new favorite game. I fall and trip often enough that I have my standard response on autopilot (raise self from ground, look around, bright smile on face that says, "No, I'm okay! Really! Happens all the time!" Wave to onlookers. Repeat as necessary.) So much so that i forget how often I go through this in a day. But when I wake up, I have significant evidence that much falling has indeed taken place.

Sometimes Boyfriend and I play Mystery Bruise together:

Me: "Ooh, this one looks like Jesus! Now, when did I get that? I think maybe when I hit the bureau getting socks."

Boyfriend: "You think they all look like Jesus. What about that trash can you smashed into on the way to the grocery store?"

And so on.

So today I have one shaped like Jesus mid-calf. And I have no clue where I got it. My guess is one of the 6,000 times I've hit the bed frame trying to get into bed this week*, but I'm not sure.

* Because yes, I spend the majority of my time simply climbing into and out of bed.**
** Okay, maybe slight exaggeration.