Yeah baby, talk feelings to me… *rawr*

CBC just wasn’t trying hard enough this morning.

If their shoulder was really to the wheel, they could have jammed in a few more cliches about women (and men) and sex.

Women like talking (guys don’t). Women need intimacy before sex (guys don’t). Women are the ones who lose interest in sex over time (their own sexpert said it’s 50/50 — when it happens). Long-term relationships will probably fizzle unless you get all new-agey about the “person within”. Women like WALKS as foreplay (<-barf).

Oh, did I say “barf”? I meant “swoon”. (No, I meant barf).

All of these little dead horses were trotted out to be beaten on the CBC’s new summer show about divorce. I forget what it was called (“Unsatisfied” or “Uninteresting” or something).

It’s not that I mind these tropes being discussed. But as part of a spectrum of experience. Ready for the big reveal? Not all women are the same.

I know. It’s just so crazy, it might be true.

Same token? Not all men are the same.

Holy. Shit. Did I just blow your mind? I know right? Take a minute to wipe your brain bits off the wall.

I expect more from my national broadcaster. I expect at least a little both-sides-of-the-dead-horse dialogue. If I wanted to hear about how women need to feel intimacy before they have sex, I would go to the grocery store and buy a magazine from the gum rack.

Cuz y’know what? Some women just like sex. (BAH! OMG! BRAIN BITS!) Some women don’t even like foreplay. Some women (CBC interviewee: “*giggle* that doesn’t work for any women“) enjoy a random ass smacking (by their partner people, by their partner). Or a random nipple tweak.

Some women think that going for a walk is about as sexy as cleaning out the cat’s litter box. Some women even… I know, it’s so crazy… like to have sex not because they’re feeling “emotionally connected”, but because they have sex drives that make them horny. For sex. The kind of sex where if you say “making love” it’s a fucking deal breaker. (<-Get it? “Fucking deal breaker”? Take a minute to enjoy that one…)

And as I ranted about this to the good’ol’piece’of’meat husband as he left for work today, I teased that maybe we should *rawr* go for a walk.

Him: “I don’t want to get all aroused right before I go to work.”

I smacked his ass.

Carl Sagan and Patrick Stewart try to save us from ourselves.

Over the past week or so, just about every single person I know has shared the Carl Sagan “pale blue dot” video. Tagged “must watch” or “life changing”. But I couldn’t shake the feeling I’d seen it, or something very similar to it, before.

And, though Google search strings failed me, my cousin pulled through with the link to the Patrick Stewart video. So here they both are together. Carl on the Earth as a tiny speck in the cosmos, and Patty-boy on the Earth as an island. Enjoy!

Carl:

Patrick:


That, or Kermit & Big Bird’s illegitimate offspring

The husband and I were bone tired by 9pm tonight. But, unwilling to just veg out, and unable to do anything that involved synapses firing, we settled on…

colouring.

It was my suggestion, and I stand proudly behind it.

I dug out a (decidedly musty) Muppets colouring book. Purchased a number of summers ago for cottaging purposes. I believe the same cottage trip whose supplies also included embroidery floss, henna, and green nail polish.

This was my contribution. A space/retro pig in floods with a ‘burbs dye-job. Feel free to notice the creative license wherein I added orange tread to her shoes. I know. I’m a star.

50spiginfloods

This… was his:

FrogFood

God I love that man.

Things I do not get tired of doing to my husband, Part III

Just a quick installment this time, since I have a work deadline that’s not going anywhere (stupid lazy deadline, why won’t you move?!).

15. Dramabush (that sounds a lot dirtier than I mean it to)
A dramabush is drama + ambush. It’s when you take a completely mundane moment, and respond with over-the-top melodrama action.

Example: We’re folding socks.
Me: *humming
Him: “What are you humming baby?”
Me: “Oh, I don’t know… nothing. Is it bothering you?”
Him: “No of course not…”
Me: “Well if it is, WHY DON’T YOU JUST IGNORE ME?! THAT SHOULD COME NATURALLY ENOUGH TO YOU!!”*
(* It’s best to round this out with some sobbing and running from the room.)

Counter-attack: He usually just waits quietly for me to come back, when my return is greeted with an “idiot” and grin + headshake.

16. “Don’t say it!”
The husband is… persistent. If it’s something he’s noticed, something he wants to say, something he wants to do. Persistent. Known in some circles as “stubborn”. Sometimes (read: often) I know exactly what he’s going to say. After 10 years, you can see through someone else’s eyes pretty accurately. You have only to follow their gaze, and you know, with absolute certainty, what’s going on in their little brain.

Like say, if you see them notice you’ve left your bag on the dining room table (again). Or that the pots and pans aren’t washed yet. Or that the letter hasn’t been mailed. You can feel the heat of their gaze and read the thought bubble that goes with it.

The thing is, I know. I know. I know the letter needs to be mailed. I know my bag doesn’t belong there. I know that it’s my turn to wash the pots. I. know. And having grown up in a family that turned nagging into a bleeding art form, I can’t bear to be reminded.

But the husband is, as mentioned, persistent. If he notices, he wants, nay, he needs, to get it out. He has noticed, and he must speak.

And I must stop him.

Sometimes it is sufficient for me to just lock eyes with him and say “I know”. But sometimes that’s not enough for him. So as I see his mouth begin to form the words, I chase it with another “I know”. And as the words start to come out, as I increase the volume on a third “I know” and add in a “don’t say it!”. And if he insists on “reminding” me of something we both know I know, it is possible that we end up in an impromptu grapple — as I try desperately to keep my hands over his mouth, and as he tries to get the words “bag” and “belongs” and “in your office” out of it.

Counter-attack: He licks my palms. Bleargh.

Counter-counter-attack: I wipe my palms off on him. Touche.

17. Suffokissing
It starts off as a nice affectionate kiss. Then whatcha do is sort of press into it. Maybe get a hand hold. As you press in, start talking. With your mouth closed. As if you’re really trying to tell the other person something, but you can’t, because they’re kissing you. You can ramp up the tone of your incoherent mumbling into sounding either irritated or insistent. If only he would stop kissing you so you could say this very important thing! Maintain liplock for full effect, especially if he tries to pull away.

Counter-attack: I believe he once got free by slipping me the tongue. Wiley bastard.

Now hiring: Halloween Greeter

Growing up, I would never have imagined it. But we are… that house.

We are the Halloween dark house. With the lights off and the blinds drawn. There is no pumpkin on the porch, and no ghosts hanging from the railings. From the street, all signs point to “no candy here, just move along”.

Does this make me feel good? No. Do I feel like a monster? Yes. And not one of those cool monsters.

The first year we lived here, I had excuses. We had just moved in. We barely had our couch uncovered, and carving a pumpkin was just not in the cards. This year, I got nuthin. I am just That Mean Lady.

It’s not that I begrudge the kids their candy. Especially given my own Halloween candy deprivation history. Long (childhood trauma) story short: our parents were health food hippies, and Halloween equaled collecting for Unicef and (where available) small boxes of Sunmaid raisins. My poor brother was left with a lifelong addiction to chocolate-covered almonds — a Sisyphean attempt to fill the sugar-shaped hole.

It’s just that I don’t want to be the one to give the kids candy. If I could leave a feeding trough of chocolate goodies at the foot of the stairs, I would. But the idea of doing the whole “oh aren’t you a cute little… whatever” makes my eye twitch and my throat close over. I was the greeter for my childhood home for years. And as a barely social creature, I guess that was my limit. I’m out. I don’t especially like kids when they’re not loitering all over my doorstep. Door-to-door solicitors in dress-up.

(As a barely social somewhat-mean creature, the idea of opening the door on an oversized teenager and saying “you’re kidding me, right?” is almost tempting enough to bring me back. Almost.)

Next year, I will try again. And by “try”, I mean try to recruit someone else to “work the door” (payment: all the tiny candy bars you can eat). Then like a patron of the arts (where by “arts” I mean “miniature KitKats”), I will buy the candy, decorate the house with Day of the Dead skeletons, then lie back on my couch watching Buffy Halloween episodes while someone-not-me makes happy sugar-filled memories for small children. Next year.

…and everything in its place.

I. am. old.

Here’s what my Saturday afternoon has consisted of so far:

Next up: sorting sweaters.

I hope some kids come by later so I can shoo them off my lawn. I’m on such a roll.

Email, according to Eddie Izzard

In an interview with Mike Birbiglia, Eddie Izzard summed up the exact social dynamics of my inbox:

When I get messages from people I want to get back to, I think “shit, I’ve got to get back to them in a decent way, not just go ‘guhwuhtha'”. You know those emails? “guhwuhtha Okay.” So I think “I’ll hold that email or I’ll hold that message and I’ll store it. And so people I don’t get back to are people I really don’t care about at all, or people I really care about. And so everyone’s in the same fucking bracket.

Things I do not get tired of doing to my husband, Part II

Continuing from Part I

9. Ending “I love you too” with a lame smackdown.
i.e.: “I love you too… so take that!” or “How do you like them apples?”

Counter-attack: “I love ’em!” also “Snap!” also “These apples?”+*boobgrab*

10. Making deeply sarcastic housekeeping requests.
“Hey sugar? Before we go out, could you please dump your soggy towel on the bed? Sorry to nag, I just really want to make sure that’s done before we leave for the day. If it’s not soaking your showerjuice into our expensive mattress, I don’t feel good about leaving. Thanks baby.”

Counter-attack: “Oh, you’re hil-a-ri-ous.”

11. Persistent convincing.
Me: “Do you want to go get a coffee?”
Him: “Sure.”
Me: “Now, hear me out… I haven’t had a coffee yet today and…”
Him: “I said sure.”
Me: “I know that you don’t really want to, but I’d really appreciate it if we could take a few minutes and…”
Him: “You’re evil.”

Counter-attack: Employ the exact same tactic in reverse.
Me: “Do you want to go get a coffee?”
Him: “Sure.”
Me: “Now, hear me out… I haven’t had a coffee yet today and…”
Him: “Listen, we really should go — I could use a break.”
Me: “I know that you hate coffee, but I’d really appreciate it if we could take a few minutes and…”
Him: “I don’t want to put you out, but it’ll only take 5 minutes to get there and back. Tops.”

12. Making “mi mi” noises (when I’m being told what to do).
Example:
Me (getting ready for bed): “I’m pretty sure I brushed my teeth already, but I can’t remember exactly. I hate that.”
Him: “Well you can just brush them again. It’s not like it’ll be bad for you to brush them again…
Me: “Mi mi mi mi mi, meh mi mi mi mi. Meh mi.” *pause*
Him: “…though it would be bad to have not brushed them at all.”
Me: “Mi mi mi mi mi, mi mi.”

Counter-attack: “…you’re quite the catch.”

13. Pancake-ing.
“Pancake-ing” is when you lie flat on top of your partner, or vice versa. It’s not really about being amorous, it’s just about … pancaking. It’s a hug for when you’re still in bed and don’t feel like getting up yet. Usually it’s reserved for when one person is eeking out a few more minutes in bed while the other has a shower.

When the freshly cleaned person returns to the bedroom to get dressed, the grungy sleeper-inner demands pancakes. It goes a little something like this:

Bed-person: “pancakes!”

Clean-person: “I’ve really got to get dressed and get going honey…”

Bed-person: “pancakes! Pancakes! pan-CAKES! PANCAKES! PANCAKES!!”

Clean-person: “ALRIGHT FINE!” *launch full body at bed*

Counter-attack: Not ending the pancake time. Sort of a “but I thought this was what you wanted so how could you be mad?” strategy. Clever.

14. Applying a Reverse Koala Take-Down.
A Reverse Koala Take-Down is what happens when you resist pancakes. Cuz they’re gonna happen. So you can do them the easy way, or the hard way. This is the hard way.

The person seeking Pancakes (Pancakee) blocks the other person’s exit, then locks their leg behind the Pancaker’s knees. The Pancakee then applies pressure to the back of the Pancaker’s knees while simultaneously pivoting so that they are between the Pancaker and the mattress, wrapping their arms around the Pancaker’s upper body while dropping backwards onto the bed.

Pancakes. Check.

Counter-attack: Even though we’re almost exactly the same weight, the little bugger has very resilient knees, and it can be difficult to drop him if he’s resisting. Sometimes I really have to heave to take him down. But it’s totally worth it.

Probably to be continued (again)…

My software’s telling me how to live my life

Within a few days of each other, I received two emails that began with:We‘ve noticed that you…”

Now, this was not spam. And it was not from friends or family or work.

It was from software.

My software is fucking emailing me.

Saying hi. Wondering how I’m doing.

Both apps (from completely different companies btw) wanted to let me know that it — sorry “we” — noticed that I downloaded/signed up “a while ago”, but have not yet started using the software.

As though this made them sad. Or they were concerned about me. Especially the one with the link to the demo. Trying to save my pride. Like I wasn’t using it because I was intimidated or had forgotten how and I’m too embarrassed to ask for help. “Oh, hey there Jimmy — if you were pretending to be sick because you’re nervous about riding to school on the short bus, just make believe you’re at Disneyworld!”

Listen apps, and listen good — I have enough trouble keeping on top of the email I receive from sentient beings. Forget about “just checking in” emails from software with the self-awareness of a sock.

So this is an open letter to all my tech — software or devices (I’m looking at you wireless mouse). Don’t call me, I’ll call you. In that I will never call you, because you’re a fucking software application.

You have not yet earned the first person plural. Using it while contacting me like some over-interested neighbour (“I noticed you got a package from Victoria’s Secret…”) doesn’t make you cute or personable — it makes you fucking creepy. So shut it. Just your damn job and do it quietly. Talk to me once you’ve become autonomous and enslaved humanity.

The episode where Audible tries to steal my money.

I know better than this.

I know better than to accept the freebie.

Because, as I’m always saying (nay, preaching) nothing is free. Nothing is cheap. It’s all coming out somewhere on the line.

When we see an “unbelievable” price on something at Walmart or H&M or whathaveyou, we should just go ahead and remove the quotation marks.  Since yes, it is actually unbelievable. In that it is not believable that you can produce a tshirt/stove/couch for that price.

Right, so Audible.

I listen to NPR, and NPR airs This American Life, and not so long ago, This American Life’s teaser included a promotion for Audible (one of their sponsors). “Special” for TAL listeners, you could get a free audiobook from Audible.

Again, I circle back to “I should have known better”.

But the teaser (I believe) mentioned such books as David Sedaris reading his “When You Are Engulfed In Flames”.

And lo, I became a sucker.

Clue #1 was when they required a credit card to set up your account.  This is always a show-stopper for me. If it’s a trial membership, or a free account, there is absofuckinglutely no reason for them to have my credit card.

But my eyes (and y’know, brain), they were blinded by the quest for a too-good-to-be true free bit ‘o’ Sedaris.

So I (just this once) signed up, and gave them my credit card info.

Now, the smart thing to do, and what I had planned on doing, was download the free sample audiobook, and then immediately cancel my account. Just to be safe.

But obviously something shiny must have been nearby, because I didn’t.

Weeks go by, and I get a whole lotta email spam from Audible (duh). I unsubscribe. (Though none of these emails make me bother to go and cancel my account as I am The Dumb).

Then I get my Visa bill.

$17.07 (foreign currency – USD $14.95).  Courtesy:  Audible.

W. T. F.

Now, I assume that legally, for them to charge my card, there must have been some terms stated somewhere associated with the freebie.  Possibly a mention of “if you don’t cancel w/in 30 days, you agree to membership”.  I’m not so fastidious in my Terms of Agreement clicking that I would know for sure. I will admit that.

But I do know for sure that this deal with the devil was willfully obscured.  That it was not clearly stated that accepting this free sample meant I was signing up for an AudibleListener Gold membership of $14.95/month. That, I am sure about.

At best, this little detail was thoroughly obfuscated behind the “totally” free sample.  Because however quickly you’re scanning terms, little details like “$14.95/month” tend to jump out at you.

Again, I acknowledge that to fall for this makes me a sucker.  I know how these things work. But maybe that’s why I feel extra put-out.  Because I /know/ that’s how these things work, and I still fell for it.  I picture a less online-shopping savvy demographic from the TAL listenership, and then I picture their Visa bills the month after they download their one free audiobook.

But now we come to the icing on my cake of indignation.  The part where I close my account.

I go to my account details to find out just what it is I’m signed up for.  Then I find a little link at the bottom that goes to “cancel account”.  Which takes me to a page with a drop-down list of reasons why I’m quitting.

I was pleased to find one which summed up my motivations rather nicely.  I believe it was along the lines of “I am upset with Audible”.  Huh.  Dear business — if that makes the list of frequently stated reasons for leaving…

Next page.  “We’re sorry you’re upset with Audible…”.  But has my account closed?  NO.  After the heartfelt regret that I’m unhappy is a statement saying that to continue cancellation, I need to contact Customer Service.   And here are their 1-800 numbers.

Fuck. that. noise.

Having done a little page logic-ing in my day, I decide that perhaps if I go back and choose a different answer, I will be able to cancel online.  So I go back, and choose the next closest response “I would prefer not to share my reasons”.  Suspecting that if I choose any of the reasons about compatibility or download troubles that I will just end up on a tech support page.

And a-ha! The “not sharing my reasons” takes me to a page which says that they’re closing my account and are sorry I’m deciding to go.

But is my account closed?  NO.

There is a button to “continue cancellation”.  Click.  Which takes me to a page which asks if it’s just a question of the money? Would I perhaps like to just put my account on hold? Again, I click “continue cancellation”.

But is my account closed? NO.

The next page is something along the lines of how I can come back any time, or something about getting a deal when I come back or… whatever.  Am I out yet?  Is my account closed?

Prize to the lovely lady in the front row who guessed… NO. (Prize == free audiobook at Audible.com!)

Finally, finally, I arrive on a page which says that I am out. My account is canceled.

Sick of this, and very annoyed, I head out for brunch.

When I return, the tab is still open, and I notice that my “continue cancellation” button had been replaced by a “customer feedback” button.

:rubs hands in glee.

What does the customer feedback form say?  Oh wait, it’s still open (find out why), let me just pop over and check for you.

::Girl from Ipanema::

Okay.  Customer Feedback page says:

As we process your cancellation, we would like to get your thoughts on the Audible service.

How likely are you on a scale of 1 through 10 to recommend Audible to your friends and family, with 10 being the most likely?

Y’wanna know why it’s still open?  Because every time I try to select “1”, and hit submit, I get bounced back to the question page again.

As we process your cancellation, we would like to get your thoughts on the Audible service.

How likely are you on a scale of 1 through 10 to recommend Audible to your friends and family, with 10 being the most likely?

Perhaps this is a by-product of the session going too long. Or perhaps it’s a browser thing.

Or perhaps, like the “I am upset with Audible”, it only goes through if you select “10”.