The film flirts with becoming radicalized here—could the Griswolds join the proletariat? Will the plot, laden as it is with the markings of the upper-class, improbably culminate in a searing indictment of late ’80s capitalism?
Nope! Instead Clark gives an impassioned speech about how employees depend on their bonuses so they can do things like buy pools. His boss is incredibly moved by the plight of these people of comfortable means, and in a fit of pay-us ex machina he not only reinstates bonuses, he ups them by 20 percent.
Y’all, I thought I’d be sort of sad I’m doing this chill Thanksgiving thing again but! No travel or annoying family or whatever. Pumped. Worked from home today and quit at 2 to work out, I have a Peapod order with lots of booze coming soon.
Dinner tomorrow with Kym and her fam (ordered from Smoke Daddy). Then brunch in the burbs on Friday with Amelia & Lain and all their Chicago people. Then Saturday brunch with Christine. Go out Saturday night with nice people. And books and Netflix and laying on my ass. And hanging with anyone else in Chicago? Whatever.
I will miss my mother’s food though. And the mountains. But my parents are spending Thanksgiving with my brother in Colorado so none of that is even going on.
Hope you all have lovely weekends. And get just enough love.
1.) When someone asks you to help them do something, and they make far more money than you do, say no.
2.) When someone talks down to you, you tell them to change their tone of voice when talking to you.
3.) If someone throws you under the bus, you fucking destroy them with a whole fleet of buses.
4.) When someone calls you a bitch or a cunt, remember you’re just defending yourself, and proudly take whatever stupid label they think means anything.
5.) When someone says something awful, you tell them in no uncertain terms why it’s awful, even if it takes all your energy. If that’s not advisable for personal security and job security, then you proceed to tell everyone you know about this. Record it. Get witnesses. Leave nothing untouched.
6.) Make friends with the enemy of your enemy.
7.) Get people in power to love you, even if it kills you.
8.) Take a whistle, and blow it.
9.) Wear whatever you want to work because they don’t respect you anyway.
10.) Glare at them so hard they want to crawl back into the safety of their mother’s womb.
I’m always super proud to be me when porn comes on my dash and I’m killing time at the airport bar before my flight. With my screen fully open to the room. SUUUUUUUUUUUP OLD BIZNASS DUDES. Have some tits.
anyone who refers to the SUPER SWEET things her hubs does for her on social media like it’s not totes normal “OMG my SO SWEET honey bought us take out” — girl, that is what normal humans do for other humans they care a modicum about, your standards for the menfolk make me sad
and on that note, i’m happy you spent an awesome day with the hubs, you’re married, that’s what i assume you’re doing
people who post photos of the super expensive shit they buy, especially if they add links
engaged people under age 25
people who don’t hate the people i hate, why don’t you hate them tooooo?
people who think adam levine is not disgusting
women afraid to speak the fuck up (i know this is complicated, but i’m so constantly frustrated by people who let others walk all over them)
recruiters on linkedin who connect with everyone … i know i’m not special
women afraid of adding to their “number,” who. the fuck. cares.
people who comment “lol this is so hilarious omg” or the like on facebook posts. don’t you have anything to add?
women on my facebook wall who posted some wedding dance video recreation of dirty dancing with “isn’t this every girl’s dream!!!” um, no.
I’m sure y’all think I’m the worst a lot too. This list should be so much longer.
If you came to my blog earlier today, the domain was down. I’m so sorry for your hardship. I hope you are okay. I fixed it.
I will be in ATL tomorrow through the red eye on Monday. To witness people get hitched. Well Thomas and Capucine. And meet a bunch of French people (bride’s family) and embarrass myself by trying to speak French. Should be fun. I am available Friday and Sunday for non-wedding things.
I am having Thanksgiving ALONE in Chicago. Well with friends and friends’ families. But I did it last year and it was sort of awesome. Sort of lonely but relaxing.
I was informed that my grand plan of volunteering on Thanksgiving (that I decided I wanted to do yesterday), would probably not happen as I would have had to sign up months ago. I am super awful at managing my life. So if you know of anything.
What was the best part of your day? I basically called a bunch of people racist on facebook because of this Braves stadium fiasco and 30 some odd comments later (on both sides), no one had changed anyone else’s mind. THOUGH! Lots of racist assholes I went to high school proved my point in the thread. So that was fun. Also I was called an emotional woman with white guilt. Guess who expressed ALL of the outrage about being called racists? White dudes who grew up super privileged class-wise in Cobb County or other Metro Atlanta counties. Like exclusively. The entitlement and bizarre insistence that they can’t possibly be racist is the most fun part. ALSO: how dare you pull the race card. Um idk making thinly veiled racist comments that doesn’t outright use the n word or something doesn’t mean your shit isn’t racist. Also: Alishan also got up in the thread and made me laugh by calling out idiots so that was fun. I was super entertained when not disgusted.
Anyways! Dudes, white males, I will say it a million times: GET YOUR PEOPLE TOGETHER. I realize this is impossible, but try maybe. This Braves shit is far from over, but I’ll continue to think a lot of the discourse swirling around the decision is racist or AT LEAST racially charged.
The reason for moving is simple. The current location has certain issues that are insurmountable and will only become more problematic over the years. These fundamental issues involve how you, our fans, access Turner Field. There is a lack of consistent mass transportation, a lack of sufficient parking and a lack of direct access to interstates. Furthermore, the Braves do not have control over the development of our immediate surroundings.
Our new location will give us the opportunity to develop the surrounding area of the new ballpark, transforming it into a mixed use, 365-day destination and creating an enhanced atmosphere for our fans during Braves games. There also will be significantly increased access to the site, enhanced parking opportunities, and, generally, easier access to and from major roadways with a variety of other transportation options.
You know what? FUCK YOU FOREVER, BARVES. So there is a lack of public transportation and interstate access (even though you can throw a rock and hit the connector or I-20 from Turner Field), so you’re going to move to COBB COUNTY, which has notoriously rejected public transportation in part because they didn’t want all the scary black people to come from Atlanta and steal their flat screen TVs? Great reasoning, assholes. Just say you’re doing it to protect the delicate sensibilities of your more important (white) fans so they can keep hating poor black people without having to be exposed to the reality in which many exist, end of story.
I’m currently having a fun Facebook fight about this because I don’t know any better. This has pissed me off so much more … than expected? But it’s not expected because I would never have imagined this would be an outcome.
I get so much pleasure out of doing nothing. Well nothing social or productive. I have been in bed all day. Reading and internetting and candy crushing and netflixing (Australian show: Miss Fisher’s Murder Mysteries) and NFL redzoning. Ordered seamless and ate it in bed. Had 2 Two Brothers’ Domaine Dupage beers (again, in bed, duh) and gonna have another. These are my favorite Sundays.
I do have work to do. And laundry could be done. My bathroom could use a scrubbing. But this is what keeps me sane. Having these days to myself. Perfectly. Contently. Alone.
Q. Where’s the Money?: I am furious with another set of parents. My 16-year-old daughter has recently told her mother and me that she is pregnant. It happened at a party that was not well-supervised, and there was alcohol involved. The boy involved and his family are owning up to their share of the responsibility, but the owners of the house are absolutely infuriating me. They need to admit their share of this burden, as it was their booze and their house party that allowed this to happen. My family is going to have a lot of expenses due to this new baby, and I don’t know how much the boy’s family can help, so it seems that the party’s host should help out, again as it was on their watch that this happened. So far, that family has ignored me when I have tried to speak with them about this. I am ready to call a lawyer to press the issue, but my wife thinks I am overreacting. What do you think?
Dear Where’s The Money?,
I understand that this is frustrating for you, but it may be time to step back and look at the bigger picture. Specifically: do you want to start a huge fight with another family because they didn’t do their due diligence by locking up your daughter’s vagina while she was under their roof, or do you want to look for bigger fish to fry?
I say this not because it isn’t other people’s responsibility to take care of your child when you dump her off at a booze-laden teenage house party without her Daddy-approved chastity belt, but because realistically, how much money are you going to get out of these irresponsible dodos? They’re probably not nearly wealthy enough to provide the fiscal resources needed to support your grandchild.
So let’s widen our aim. Is it possible the builder who so cavalierly constructed a home that could house multiple teenagers at a time could take some responsibility for his or her oversight? Why not sue the school your daughter attends for allowing her peers to join her in class and befriend her with their penises? Think of what your grandchild could do with a teacher’s salary! Or better yet - an administrator’s!? I don’t know if your daughter lives in the same city as the father of her child, but I’d imagine your municipality has some money it could throw your way - and that’s not even taking into consideration the lawsuit you should file against the police for turning a blind eye to your daughter’s underage drinking, without which there is no feasible way she would have become pregnant.
I get that you’re angry, but let’s not miss the forest for the trees.
Y’all. This was my favorite Dear Prudie question in … months? It is. Amazing. I just want to go hang with this dude and talk to him about how we can blame everyone else for our problems.
Sometimes the girl who drove that shitty Jeep Wrangler seems like a different girl. The girl who failed out of school, who got arrested, who did whatever the fuck she wanted, who was that? It feels like a lifetime ago. Did I really spend that time in jail? Did I really beg that man who didn’t love me to love me? Was that really me?
I am still mostly that person. I am barely a grown up. Or. Barely more grown up than then. But when did I manage to become more … capable? Or whatever. Oh fuck it is so goddamn existential.
I am still the impulsive, sensitive, emotional person who obsesses about who likes me and who doesn’t. I am concerned about your well-being. My heart will ache for all the people I love, but I’ve learned to compartmentalize.
I have learned better boundaries. Though I’m not yet perfect in this area. I doubt I ever will be.
Even the girl from last year, that girl. She seems far away. She loved him and she ruined everything. She learned her lesson. But have I? Could I repair that if I could do it over? The sting still smarts. Every day.
What about the girl who stayed with the boy who hurt her? Is that the same girl, excuse me, woman I am now? Is that a lesson I’ve learned? Would I be able to read the signs quickly and avoid all the trauma?
The city makes the scenery different and makes me feel like I’m different. Maybe I am. Maybe moving here has changed me. Maybe it’s just that I grew up. Or I’m growing up. But the girl who slept with any many who’d give her the time of day when she was 19 is not that far from the 30 year old lady who is discerning but still epically foolish when it comes to men.
They say you change more in your 20s than in any subsequent decade but I am sort of hoping that’s not true. Becoming this lady who still makes some intense mistakes took a lot of hurt and joy and fun and sadness, I don’t necessarily want to give all that up just to reach 40 in one piece.
Whenever I crossed the threshold, whenever I grew up. When exactly? I think I missed it. I missed the moment. Was it one moment? One instance of not being an idiot? I didn’t savor it. Next time. Next time I’ll make a note of it.
"Your name, by definition, is yours. It is your most YOUR thing. It’s as much yours as your body. More, even, because you can change it at will. A lot of people are born with bodies that aren’t right for them, and might never be right for them. But if you’re born with the "wrong" name, you can make it right, and yours, in an instant. To take that away from someone—using a power as emotional and overwhelming as "tradition"— and to do it systematically to only one gender is sexist. You showed your hand, bros.
If you think I’m overreacting and exaggerating about the symbolic power of naming, then perhaps you’ll listen to a more trustworthy source: the men of Men’s Health. They’re quite candidly fixated on it. Their clarity is indisputable.
“My name is part of who I am.” —Anonymous respondent, via a SurveyMonkey poll
“Call it pride or ego, whatever. It’s not happening.” —Anonymous respondent, via a SurveyMonkey poll
“It sounds like she’s trying to hang onto her “single person” identity and not identify with the fact that she’s married now.” —Anonymous respondent, via a SurveyMonkey poll
Translation: My name is part of who I am. To change it would be unthinkable. It would be like giving up my identity. My identity is too important to give up. It would be a sort of death. So here, women, YOU DO IT. His identity supersedes yours. And any desire to maintain your “‘single person’ identity”—your you-ness—is an insulting affront to the institution of marriage itself.”
I feel extraordinarily strongly about this and every time I bring it up people get defensive. I know I shouldn’t judge but a coworker telling me, “well I would have kept my name but it was surprisingly very important to my husband” and then when I say “well did he consider taking your name?” and silence. Like I guess I shouldn’t discuss this shit with people but it drives me up a damn wall.
“If there’s a sexist tinge to viewers’ dislike of certain female TV characters—amplified, in the case of Dana, by the fact that she’s an adolescent female who is assertive about her opinions and her sexuality—I’d venture that there’s a less sinister reason for the recent anti-Dana flare-up as well: regular old impatience with subplots.”
Look I hate Dana for pure reasons, not because she’s a teenage girl. Well that’s part of it and teenagers male or female are the worst but seriously, Dana is horrifying. The calling Carrie crazy? Being a brat to her poor mother? I mean, I’ve been there but gah don’t make me watch it week after week. I hate her and her whole storyline. I also hated Walt Jr. Seriously it’s just teenagers.
In one awful high-profile case after another—the U.S. Naval Academy; Steubenville, Ohio; now the allegations in Maryville, Mo.—we read about a young man, sometimes only a boy, who goes to a party and ends up raping. As soon as the school year begins, so do reports of male students sexually assaulting their female classmates. A common denominator in these cases is alcohol, often copious amounts. But the obsessive focus on blaming the victim has made it somehow unacceptable to warn inexperienced young men that when they get wasted, they are putting young women in potential peril.
A 2009 study of campus sexual assault found that by the time they are seniors, many college men will become rapists, overwhelmingly of a fellow classmate. Very few will ever be reported to authorities. The same study states that more than 80 percent of campus sexual assaults involve alcohol. Frequently both the man and the woman have been drinking. The men tend to use the drinking to justify their behavior, as this survey of research on alcohol-related campus sexual assault by Antonia Abbey, professor of psychology at Wayne State University, illustrates, while for many of the women, having been drunk becomes a source of guilt and shame.
Let’s be totally clear: Perpetrators are the ones responsible for committing their crimes, and they should be brought to justice. But we are failing to let men know that when they drink their decision-making skills into oblivion, they can do terrible things. Young men are getting a distorted message that their right to match each other drink for drink is proof of their masculinity. The real masculine message should be that when you lose the ability to be responsible for yourself, you drastically increase the chances that you will become the kind of person who, shall we say, doesn’t have others’ best interest at heart. That’s not saying all men are rapists; that’s trying to prevent more rapes.
The “Campus Sexual Assault Study” of 2007, undertaken for the Department of Justice, found that the popular belief that many young rape victims have been slipped “date rape” drugs is false. “Most sexual assaults occur after voluntary consumption of alcohol by the victim and assailant,” the report states. But the researchers noted that this crucial point is not being articulated to young and naïve men: “Despite the link between substance abuse and sexual assault it appears that few sexual assault and/or risk reduction programs address the relationship between substance use and sexual assault.”
“I’m not saying all men are rapists,” says one expert. “But when your judgment is compromised, your risk is elevated of perpetrating sexual violence.”
I’ve told my son that it’s his responsibility to take steps to not commit or enable rape. (“I hear you! I’ll stop!”) The biological reality is that women do not metabolize alcohol the same way as men, and that means drink for drink women will get drunker faster. I tell him I know alcohol will be widely available (even though it’s illegal for most college students) but that he’ll have a good chance of knowing what’s going on around him if he limits himself to no more than two drinks, sipped slowly—no shots!—and stays away from notorious punch bowls. If male college students start moderating their drinking as a way of looking out for their own self-interest—and looking out for your own self-interest should be a primary masculine principle—I hope their restraint trickles down to the women.
“I want the girl to be attractive. I like girls that are thin, or with a toned or athletic build. A average build is fine too, just as long as you are not over weight. I will not date a overweight or fat girl. I like girls that are 130 pounds or less. Of course weight needs to be in proportion to their height, as long as they aren’t considred overweight, they should be fine. Being overweight is a total dealbreaker with me. I also like girls with long hair. I like a girl to look like a girl, not a man, I like a feminine, pretty girl. I like hair down to the shoulders at least. Sometimes I can make exceptions if it is shorter depending on how it looks on the girl. But for the most part, I love long hair. Redheads are my favorite, next is Brunettes, and next is Blondes, in that order. I like all 3, but I’m just saying if I had to choose, that’s my order of preference. I will not date a Black girl. I don’t care if she looks like Halle Berry, I will not ever date a Black girl. However, I will date any other race, Hispanic, Mexican, Spanish, Russian, Italian, French, European, White, whatever, anything except Black. I do not like glasses on a girl. Although, it’s not a dealbreaker, as long as she can wear contacts at least most of the time.”—
“More Americans oppose Obamacare now than at any time. As rhetoric on defunding Obamacare has gone up, so has Republican popularity and opposition to Obamacare. A full quarter of the American public wants Congress to actually blow up Obamacare. When is the last time a full quarter of the whole population wanted Congress to do any one thing? More than half want Obamacare either destroyed or substantially changed.”—
MILWAUKEE: does it have a nickname? Like Hotlanta? I’m here. In a snazzy Crowne Plaza (swaaaaaaagggggg) for the majority of the week. Which is where I’ll be through … November? Probably? Weekly I mean.
2 weeks ago, I moved to the consulting side of our business and I’m project managing (and some account managing) a large customer experience team for [large retailer based here]. It’s FASCINATING! Learning how the sausage is made. Large e-comm, omnichannel places are intense and I love it.
I went to a swell place called Blue Jacket tonight. Chatted up the bartender for restaurant recs but always looking for more. Also beer is big here?
OTHERWISE: I’ve been drinking a lot less … trying to not overshare … which is hard for me. But I look like an idiot enough whilst (lol) sober, why make it worse? The real thing though is: hey maybe you lose some weight lady? Try that.
Atlanta is Atlanta and it exists and it’s there waiting for me. My searches have stalled out. I have no idea where I’ll be when 2014 dawns but I doubt it’ll not be Chicago. I mean. I dunno. I’m just going where the job winds blow.
U-G-A football is lovely. I’m trying emotional detachment. Which is relatively easy in the Midwest. There aren’t a million Dawgs I have to encounter daily. I can act like it’s a thing that doesn’t exist until the actual game and then. Asses accordingly.
I’ve felt 2 things really clearly recently: I am a grown up. Like a real one. And I am alone. Very alone. A lot. My life is spent very singularly. Especially now. I’m accepting that and figuring out what that means.
Except when I’m in ATL. Where I’ll be this weekend. To watch more people get hitched. Shit ain’t that bad. !!! (It’s not bad at all. I’m not saying being alone is bad. It is what it is.)