Things I Think About on the Way Home From Derby

Someone sometime said that I should take all the things I think about while I'm driving home from derby and write them down. Because apparently, they're kind of fascinating? Sure, why not. Maybe I'll remember to google the answers for some of these, sometime.

So. Potential new weekly feature: Things I Think About on the Way Home From Derby. TITAOTWHFD? That's terrible.

- The smell of dogfood just after leaving practice will never not be the grossest thing in the world.
- Dogs. What are dogs actually supposed to eat?
- Dogfood came from... where DID dogfood come from?
- Seriously, What are dogs supposed to eat? Like, in the wild. Are there still wild dogs?
- How long have we been domesticating them? Are wolves and coyotes all that's left?
- Dog breeds are weird. How did we end up with so many different breeds? So quickly?
- Why do Chows have purple tongues?
- Is dog DNA like apples? Or pigeons? Is it just really, really easy to manipulate dogs into what we want them to be like?
- How come there aren't as many domestic breeds of cats?
- What's the dog equivalent of a sabretooth tiger?
- All cats really do look pretty much the same, less their hair. It's not like there's a Great Dane of domestic cats. Or designer cat breeds. Is there? There's that hypoallergenic cat. I don't think that counts.

- I should blog about this. Is that pretentious?
- Do other people think about weird shit like this while they're spacing out driving?
- Great, now that I'm thinking about how to think about things while driving home from practice, I can't think of anything.
- That's weird.
- Actually, if the only time I can't think of anything is while I"m trying to think about something, that might be brilliant.
- In a roundabout self-sabotaging my overactive brain sort of way.

-OKStupid
- Why am I so squicked out by dudes explicitly stating what sort of sexytimes they'd like to have? Isn't that just them being open and honest? Isn't that the point?
- But it's icky. Why is it icky? If I actually knew them and they told me these exact same things, it'd be fine.
- Well, maybe it has to do with what you're looking for. You're never looking for those things right up front. You've got other priorities.
- What are my priorities? Would other people be just as weirded out if I put what I'm really looking for up on the internet?

- No one on 36 can merge. Augh.

Here. Have a puppy.

Betsy's a Liar Liarpants.

Sometimes I wonder if I should give my anxiety a really stupid, cutesy, humanizing nickname, like "Betsy," or something. Just so you can see how easy it really is for it to show up in my daily interactions.

Like, why I'm home with Fringe on a Friday night, instead of a) at services, b) at my friend's aerial dance performance, c) at a laser show, or d) roller skating.

Last week, I went to a haunt with a friend. We grabbed burgers afterwards, and had a very normal friend-talk about his living situation, which was stressing him out.

Fast forward to, y'know, now:

Friend: Hey, I just wanted to thank you for last week. It was really helpful, and you're the best.
Me: You're welcome. I'm glad it helped. {I feel ok about myself for half a second and then}
Betsy: He's LYING. LIAR LIAR LYING. You shouldn't talk to him again. You don't have any business helping him, what the fuck do you know? You don't have roommates. All your roommates were drug addicts, and now you live by yourself. Just stay home and shut up. You're useless.
Me: ...Bwuh?

And then, y'know, you can't have a fight with Betsy, because then you really start to feel like you're crazy.

No silver lining to this one, folks. Sometimes, you just stay home with Betsy and Joshua Jackson, because you're afraid that if Betsy got out into the real world, things would be even worse.

Warning: Contains Girl Parts

Just once, I'd like to make it through a 24 hour news cycle without becoming hopelessly despondent. 24 hours without a story about another suicide via bullying, or rape case turned victim blaming, or casual racism/sexism/homophobia being treated like something normal. Just once, I'd like to hear about stories about it getting better. Of people learning from past mistakes, of examining privilege and leveling up. I'd like to hear about things that don't make me wonder if anything is ever going to change, or if we're all just going to have to walk around with WARNING: CONTAINS GIRL PARTS signs around our necks forever.

Just once.

Here. I'll start.

Back in September, I spent a day in my hometown back east, running errands.

As I was hustling across the SEPTA parking lot towards my eyeglasses place, I had the following exchange with a stranger, a 40-something heavyset black man.

Me: {hustling}
Him: {across the street, yelling}Hey! HEY!
Me: {Oh god, what now.}
Him: Hey, sweetheart! I really like your green hair!
Me: Thank... thank you?
Him: You're welcome! Have a great day! {smiles, finishes crossing the parking lot}

//end scene

What's surprising about this is scene is that it's surprising. No woman expects her casual streetside encounters to be casual streetside encounters. We certainly don't expect them to be civil, earnest, or complimentary.

But man. How cool would it be if we could.