We've Doomed the FYO

Check out this article that links fairy tales to violent relationships.

Fairy tales linked to violent relationships

Fri Apr 22, 7:47 AM ET

LONDON (AFP) - Young girls who enjoy classic romantic fairy tales like "Cinderella" and "Beauty and the Beast" are at greater risk of becoming victims of violent relationships in later life, a British researcher says.

A study of both parents of primary school children and women who have been involved in domestic abuse claims than those who grew up reading fairy tales are likely to be more submissive as adults.

Susan Darker-Smith, a graduate student who wrote the academic paper, said she found many abuse victims identified with characters in famous children's literature and claimed the stories provide "templates" of dominated women.

A more senior academic at the University of Derby said the topic was sure to spark debate but merited further research.

"They believe if their love is strong enough they can change their partner's behaviour," Darker-Smith said. "Girls who have listened to such stories as children tend to become more submissive in their future relationships."

The research, conducted in Leicester in the east of England, is to be presented to the International Congress of Cognitive Therapy in Gothenburg, Sweden, next month.

Her study, entitled "The Tales We Tell Our Children: Overconditioning of Girls to Expect Partners to Change", will be discussed by many of the world's most influential therapists.

Darker-Smith said she believed younger generations exposed to television and other entertainment media may react differently and be less submissive than those weaned solely on literature.

Her work found the most popular bedtime stories for girls were "Cinderella" and "Rapunzel", while boys were more likely to hanker for "Paddington Bear" or "Thomas the Tank Engine".

Darker-Smith, a masters student in cognitive behavioural psychotherapy at the University of Derby, will also submit other abstracts to the conference, examining ideas about anorexia and post-traumatic stress disorder.

Michael Townend, senior lecturer in psychotherapy at the university said: "We know that storytelling is an important way that children form beliefs about themselves and relationships."

"Susan's work is an interesting study which is sure to spark debate, but further research is required in this area."

The Cherry Parisite

Pregnant women must write all of the pregnancy calendars on the Internet that describe the size of your growing baby and uterus in terms of food items. I can't wait until week 12 when it'll be the size of a pickle and some ice cream!

Week 6: Your baby's length is now about 3 to 5 millimeters -- about the size of a peppercorn!

Week 7: A BB pellet.

Week 8: Your baby is now 10 to 13 millimeters long -- about the size of a cherry. From another book: A pinto bean!

Week 9: Your uterus is about the size of a grapefruit!

Week 10: The baby weighs close to 0.18 ounces and is the size of a small plum.

Week 11: Your baby is about the size of a large lime!

Week 12: No reference, but the size doubled in the past 3 weeks.

Week 13: Its about the size of a peach.

Week 14: Your baby is the size of your fist. [Does that mean its getting smaller?]

Week 15: Softball!


Today BioMom had her usual mid-week parananoia attack. Before I get a bunch of emails berating me for not giving her enough love and support, note that I am just documenting my subjective experience and not judging her. I know that she is jacked up with hormones and I am doing my best to reassure her, or at the very least to point her toward someone who can reassure her. And not the ultrasound machine.

I lost a pound! I'm not feeling any nausea. I was sad yesterday just like I was sad when I had miscarried!!!

Please let the next four weeks pass quickly!

Nowadays

I was at dinner with a history professor and his wife last night and a discussion we were having on student papers confirmed my theory that students have no comprehention of the importance of historical specificity in their writing.

Specifically, we laughed at the ubiquitous use of the term "nowadays". Usually, it is used as a climactic point in the paper emphasizing (usually) the negative associated with all time prior to the unspecified "nowadays" and the optimistic future associated with all time post "nowadays".

Even more disturbing is that it seems like the relevant time period for prior to "nowadays" extends [only!] "10-15 years" as in,

"Women used to stay at home with their kids and had little opportunity in the labor market. But nowadays, they have lots of opportunities and the wage gap is falling [its only $0.77!!!]."

!

Or,

"Women used to do the majority of the domestic labor but nowadays husbands are helping out [this is after reporting like a 1/2 hour increase among men over the last 30 years]."

Woah.

New Blog

Freakonomics: A Rogue Economist Explores the Hidden Side of Everything

The Externalities of Pregnancy

Your nauseating hCG levels are at their peak this week. The good news is that starting next week, as your hormone levels stabilize, you'll start feeling a lot better. The bad news is that this week is probably going to be rough. If you're throwing up a lot, drink plenty of water to keep yourself from dehydrating. Your uterus has doubled in size and is now about the size of a tennis ball. The area under your navel is definitely firmer than usual. Most women report being uninterested in sex at this stage, though some women also report being more interested than usual.

You may begin to notice changes in your hair and skin. Your hair might feel thick and lustrous-or greasy, thin, and limp. Resist the urge to try to dye, perm, or highlight your hair-it may not take to the chemicals evenly. Do switch your shampoo and conditioner to suit your new hair texture.

8.1: Week 8 Day 1

Cousin called yesterday. She is the only one that knows at this point.

She said: Where are you guys? How are you? I worry about you if I haven't heard from you in a couple of days!

So sweet.

I know I sound like a baby. Especially to all those women trying to get to this stage at all, but it is totally nervewracking.

I called BioMom from Walgreens today. The Dr. told her to eat more calcium as the parasite is sucking the life out of her bones. Anyway, she was feeling terrible--worse than ever. Which is great news. But then she said she was also dizzy. I resisted the urge to run to my computer, pull up Google, and type in "pregnancy and dizziness."

No. I just waited until I got home to neurotically search all of the unpublished and unverified information at my fingertips to fuel my hypertension!!

Here's the results. . . Another bullet dodged (seriously! it feels like that!):

Dizziness or feeling faint is a normal symptom during pregnancy. It is more common in the first trimester, but it may also be prevalent throughout your pregnancy.
What causes dizziness during pregnancy?

The main cause of dizziness in pregnancy is due to the rising hormones that cause your blood vessels to relax and widen. This helps increase the blood flow to your baby, but it slows the return of the blood in the veins to you. This causes your blood pressure to be lower than usual which can reduce the blood flow to your brain temporarily causing dizziness.

Dizziness is also caused by low blood sugar levels which may occur as your body adapts to changes in your metabolism. Women who are anemic or who have varicose veins may be more susceptible to dizziness than others.

Dizziness may be caused in your second trimester because your growing uterus may be putting pressure on blood vessels.

Dizziness may occur later in your pregnancy when you lie on your back allowing the weight of the baby to press on your vena cava (a large vein that carries blood from your lower body to your heart.)
What remedies exist for preventing dizziness during pregnancy?

There are a number of things you can do to reduce the amount of dizziness you may experience. Here are some helpful suggestions for reducing dizziness during pregnancy:

* Avoid standing for long periods. If you must stand, make sure that you keep your feet moving to help increase circulation.
* Get up slowly from either sitting or lying down. (This can be very more important when you are getting out of the bath.)
* Eat regularly. Avoid long periods between meals; it is better to snack throughout the day.
* Avoid hot baths or showers.
* Avoid lying on your back once you reach the middle of your second trimester.
* Wear loose comfortable clothing to avoid restricting circulation.

What do I do if I feel faint during pregnancy?

There are a few things you can do to help relieve the feeling that you are going to faint. It is common to faint during pregnancy, so be cautious. Here are some helpful suggestions:

* Avoid getting up quick from sitting or lying down positions. This is a common reason for dizziness, lightheadedness and fainting.
* If you feel faint, try the following things:
o sit or lie down and lower your head
o take deep breaths
o loosen any tight clothing
o open windows and move towards circulating air
o have something to eat

When to contact your physician because of dizziness during pregnancy:

You should contact your doctor immediately if your dizziness is accompanied by vaginal bleeding and/or pain in your abdomen. This could be a sign of an ectopic pregnancy, a low-lying placenta, or a placental abruption.

You should also contact your doctor immediately if you have persistent dizziness or dizziness accompanied by blurred vision, headaches, or palpitations; this may be a symptom of severe anemia or some other illness which could have a negative affect on your pregnancy.

Timing Is Everything

Recently, the FYO has been trying on some humor. But her timing is WAY off.

The obvious favorite path to what she hopes is a good laugh is the trusty "April-Fool's Joke." Such repartee requires a specific sort of delivery, I've learned, to be understood as the wisecrack it was intended to be.

For example:

Ridiculous statement. Pause. Then, the recognizable singsongy "APRIL" pause followed by the two-syllabled "FOO-HOOLS!" and usually an inspiring laugh by the comedienne.

The FYO doesn't yet have the pattern down so when the "Ridiculous Statement" is made and not followed relatively immediately by the above-stated pattern, I often don't recognize it as such.

Yesterday the FYO and BioMom and I went to the highly pagan May Day festival in the Powderhorn Neighborhood in Minneapolis. We parked near a make-shift bar-b-que at a student-type house with a bunch of kids hanging out outside. It looked (and smelled) like a blast.

The FYO: I want to move HERE!

Me: Yeah. It DOES look fun, doesn't it. Said while drooling.

The FYO: APRILFOOLSILOVEOURHOUSE. All run together.

Neither Science Nor Art?

In the article "The X Factor: Is the Art Market Rational or Biased" Sunday's New York Times, Greg Allen describes the disparity between sale prices for art done by men versus art done by women.

Out of the 861 works for sale at next week's contemporary art auctions at Christies, Sotheby's and Phillips de Pury & Co, only 13 percent are by female artists and of the 61 pieces that have been assigned an estimated price of at least $1 million, only 6 percent are by women.

According to Irving Sandler, an art historian: When you're talking about the market, there may be a glass ceiling. It's not as if women aren't recognized; they are. But look at your top auction people, and there is a vast discrepancy between what men get and what the women get.

So, the question is, why?

According to conventional wisdom, the value of an artist's work increases when she has shows in prestigious museums. But as Mark Fletcher, a private art adviser who has dealt in work by both [Damien Hirst (think tiger shark in formaldehyde) and Rachel Whiteread (think fiberglass, rubber mattresses) both Y.B.A.'s or "Young British Artists." As an aside, BioMom and I got to see a great exhibition of the YBA's at London's Saatchi Gallery last summer. The exhibitions included the floating shark as well as a room filled to its mid-point in oil. Now THAT's art!], said, "Whiteread has an extraordinary, esteemed museum exhibition and patronage history, but it's Hirst, which has little such institutional support, which does extremely well in the marketplace."

Art defies a head-on comparison. Forget apples and oranges; how does one judge the value of Ms. Whiteread's cast fiberglass and rubber mattress relative to Mr. Hirst's deteriorating shark? . . The contemporary art market has at least one frustratingly simple answer: price. And from that perspective, the comparison is unmistakable: art made by women is regarded less highly than art made by men.

The problem, of course, started long before the current boom in the art market, with its dizzying seven-figure prices. Through the middle of the last century, many galleries simply refused to show the work of female artists; others reportedly had quotas. . . "Until about 25 years ago, women just weren't shown that much."

Like other disciplines, some women who refused to network in the male-dominated culture chose to withdraw from the market. They just left because they just didn't want to have that kind of life or being that kind of situation. Note, this is at least part of an explanation for the relative dearth of women in full-professor positions and in the upper echelons of law firms.

Such obstacles slowed or prevented women from establishing a strong base of collectors.

In 1972, the feminist art historian Linda Nochlin published an influential essay that linked women's lack of parity in the art world with the biases women faced in the culture at large. Since then, each successive generation of female artists has found the playing field a bit more level.

And, naturally, there are the skeptics. Those women who lived through the patriarchy and succeeded and, therefore, deny any possibility of the existence of sexism [As another aside, our provost regularly touts the fact that she raised kids AND rose through the ranks of academia without these fluffy work-life policies to help her. Why shouldn't you???]:

Ms. Bourgeois, now 93, rejects the idea that her art has ever suffered from bias. "No, it hasn't," she said assuredly. "I don't see any difference in the art, whether men's or women's."

According to Ms. Peyton "One reason [for the male-female price gap] may be the way women can be marketed by their dealers. There's something about a great male painter; it's an ideal. Also, maybe women are concerned with different things, and so they're making different kinds of work. Maybe the market thinks that's less valuable."

Of all the worlds' markets, the art market is perhaps the most intrinsically subjective. No one calculates the price of a painting by tallying the time it took and multiplying that by the artist's hourly rate. Nor do raw materials count for much: expensive paintings are, more or less, made of the same stuff as cheap paintings. For all the experts and connoisseurs and scholars and analysts, when it comes right down to it, the price of a work of art is based on what buyer and seller agree its worth, and that's all. And as in almost every other field where money changes hands in society, women's production has been and continues to be valued below that of men, except in this field, the differences is sometimes ten-fold or more.

Women's art sells for less because it is made by women.

Eight Weeks, Zero Days

Another post I can't post.

This is how neurotic we've become. I have looked at literally every pregnancy website. What are the symptoms? What does the baby look like? What is developing? What should it feel like if something is wrong? Etc. Etc.

And the pregnancy calendar defies all sense of logic.

Firstly, it starts at the first day of the last period which, while defineable, seems completely illogical as one is not actually pregnant at that point. So, by that standard, we ALL are pregnant for two weeks EVERY MONTH! Even if we're not trying! By the time you find out, you are in your fourth week.

Secondly, if you are 8 weeks and 1 day pregant, are you in your 8th week, or your 9th week according to all of the websites?

Lastly, nothing. . . NOTHING reassures me completely.

I am not the type of person to wish time away but, I can't wait until the end of week 12. Or is it 11 weeks and 6 days?

The Thing I Can't Blog About

Yesterday (April 29th) was our first doctor's appointment. BioMom was exactly 7 weeks and 5 days pregnant.

We are over-the-moon about it, but at the same time probably overly anxious. It is exactly a year ago that BioMom was pregnant and ultimately miscarried.

Its so much different for both of us now. Where, last year, I wanted to shout from the rooftop, telling strangers, acquaintences and our closest all, this year I barely have the urge to tell my closest friends. And usually, when I do almost tell, it is not in the form of an announcement, but an aside, a part of the description of my every-day life.

I do, however, tell strangers. Strangers at Starbucks, strangers at our sandwich shop, the waitress at our sushi place (who, maybe shouldn't be counted as a stranger since we ALWAYS flirt with her). Strangers are my outlet.

Anyway, we expected some relief after this first doctor's appointment. We were hoping for some reassurance, statistical or otherwise.

You're FINE! I can GUARANTEE that you won't have another miscarriage!

Oh. . . No. You won't miscarry again! Only 30 percent of all women have miscarriages and even fewer have more than one! So, no. . . Don't worry at all!

Of course, we get Dr. Realistic. Dr. I-don't-want-to-get-sued-so-I'm-not-going-to-blow-smoke-up-your-ass-with-falsely-reassuring-statistics!

Me: We're out of the dark with the ectopic pregnancy now, aren't we? I mean, that thing's the size of a cherry [I'd been on the Internet, of course, looking up every detail and searching out every ache and pain BioMom reported since week 4!] so if it were in her tubes, she'd be writhing with pain, no?

Dr. Frank: Actually no. It is surprisingly difficult to diagnose and ectopic pregnancy and we see them well into the 8th week. If you have severe pains and/or bleeding feel free to call. To WAKE US UP if you have to.

Me: [shit].

BioMom: And miscarriage? Since we had one already, isn't there a smaller chance that we'd have another?

Dr. Frank: Well, actually, statistically you have the same chance of a miscarriage every time you get pregnant so. . .

And then came the really stressful information: the NUMBERS. Being the ripe-old-age of 38, [and, of course, Dr. Frank had to point out that she'd be 39 by the due date] the risk for down syndrome is 1/137 and the risk for chromosome abnormalities is 1/103. So, they give you all of these options to test to see if the baby has any of these issues. The screening tests are noninvasive and therefore not risky, but they only give you probabilities (albeit better, or I should say more accurate, than the ones for the general population). If you want more accuracy, you have to accept more risk. Technology has gotten better, but not much less risky. The amnio results in a miscarriage 1/200 times whereas this new test, the CVS results in miscarriage 1/100 times.

AND these are only 2 of 200 googleplex possible problems. And that doesn't even count one's they can't possibly measure like will the kid smoke crack when he's 13? or will she get preganant in her sophomore year in high school?

Needless to say, we left the Dr.'s office more anxious than when we entered.

Five Year Old Dr.'s Appt

Today was the FYO's doctor's appointment. Shots and all.

Her doctor's name-no kidding-is "Dr. Nice" and she basked in his attention during the appointment.

One of the things that makes five adorable is the sheer randomness of her thought process and how, when she tells a story, she is really enunciating what is important to her and, sometimes, that's the only way you find out what is important to her. What is going on in that five-year-old brain.

A couple of highlights from this morning:

When I go like this [putting finger on forehead] I can feel my SKULL.

I have a new bunk bed.

Profit Motive?

I am always skeptical that time of the year when I discuss the theory of the firm in my microeconomics courses. The first word out of the textbook is always that the goal of the firm is to maximize profits.

It seems to me that firms have a much larger role in a capitalist/democratic society, and that weilding power in other realms, while possibly profit-oriented, has other motives.

Evidence that Microsoft hired extreme-rightist-anti-abortion-activist Ralph Reed to the tune of $20k/mo only bolsters my suspicions.

More Unbelievable Student Antics

Dear Professor-Expected-Pushover:
I have a bit of a problem that I had not realized until now. Our last day of class is May 5th, and I unintelligently scheduled an appointment a while back for dental surgery back home on that day. I will therefore not be able to attend class. I know that I can simply hand my papers in early, but I am concerned about the short oral presentation required. Is there an alternative that I can do for this?
Cheers!
Student-Semi-Conscious

FHB

Tonight was the first of what I expect will be many lessons in famly-specific etiquette (FSE).

Sidekick was over after a few rigorous loops around the block (Tour-de-Garfield) with only one minor crash into an unsuspecting tree, and we were enjoying the unique and varied dining experience of Sunday leftovers.

The girls were sharing some noodles mixed with other stuff like tomatoes and chicken, which, to their palates were insignifcant in relation to the creamy-noodl-y goodness.

All was copacetic until the FYO started digging into the last portion of the noodles. Well, okay, that was not yet the turning point of the night. While she controled the dish, all was good.

Can I jsut eat out of the [serving] dish?

Sure. That's fine. There is something so natural and innocent about kids' desires. You almost hate to ruin them with socialization. I imagined her eating her college noodles (i.e. raman) out of the pan. Why dirty a dish? A natural and economical conclusion. And then later, at her wedding reception, grabbing the serving platter into her own hands and licking out the remains. Everyone at her table looking at her in horror. The noodle-juice spilling all over her formerly white strappy gown.

Then Sidekick got interested. MORE Noodles? [Said like "Scoobysnack"?].

When the FYO's natural reaction to Sidekick's spoon entering her personal atmosphere was to kick out her elbow like a Heisman trophy, we knew that it was time to discuss Family-Specific-Dining-Etequette-Numero-Uno, FHB.

According to the Rule of Family Hold Back, when a specific food item has been deemed FHB, under no circumstance will a member of the immediate family (extended if necessary) be found imbibing in said food item.

This rule is a holdover from BioMom's family book of rules. Based on her account, (poor, indeed, but the only thing available to me at the time of this writing) no one dared break the FHB rule. A single look from grandma or grandpa would send BioMom and her three sisters away from the meatballs and brownies and toward the jello-salad.

Understandably, the FYO was nonplussed by the new constraint to her dining experience.

NO!!!!!! ITS. NOT. FAIR!!!!!!!!!!

And yes, this came out of my mouth: Life's not fair.

Apparently, the five-year-old brain has not yet reached that level of cognitive development which recognizes the futility of repitition.

NO!!!!! ITS! NOT!! FAIR!!!

It may not be fair, but those are our family rules.

WHAT IF SHE EATS IT ALL???? ITS NOT FAIR!!!

You'd think she were emaciated.

Doc

My brother just got a new yellow lab puppy. He's not crazy religious- well, not in the evangelical sense anyway- and held a christening at his house yesterday.

Here's a great little slideshow of the event, sent by his pal.

Priceless.

And. . . David Brooks is One Step Away

This, via Bitch.Phd, is just one step away from the Gay Marriage Amendment as well. . .

J.H.C.

Has anyone ever heard of the bill of rights? NOT open to legislative interpretation or popular vote, by the way.

To Answer Bitch.PhD's question: Are the workings of the Bush administration close enough to fascism yet to start worrying people?

YES!! Sweaty palms and all . . .

Homophobia Continued

Oh yeah. In addition to Bachman and Anwar, we've got the election of St. Benedict XVI:

Ratzinger has been prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith since 1981 and dean of the College of Cardinals since 2002. In 1986, Ratzinger issued his notorious "Letter to the Bishops of the Catholic Church on the Pastoral Care of Homosexual Persons," stating of homosexuality that "the inclination itself must be seen as an objective disorder." Also in the letter, after deploring anti-gay violence, Ratzinger justified it: "[W]hen civil legislation is introduced to protect behavior to which no one has any conceivable right, neither the Church nor society at large should be surprised when other distorted notions and practices gain ground, and irrational and violent reactions increase." His sympathy for violent reactions recalls the phrase in Leviticus 20:13, "their blood shall be on their own heads." In the same letter, Ratzinger called gay rights advocacy a threat to the family.

Bold friggin mine.

Maybe we should rethink the Annunciation decision for the FYO. . .

School Days

So, the school decision is finally over. The FYO is going to a neighborhood catholic school, Annunciation.

The other night at dinner, the FYO asked

Why do I have to go to that school?

Out of the blue, like most of her questions and statements. And then she added

Its so GODY.

I heard "gawdy" and was confused. The school itself is DARLING from the outside. Not gawdy in the least. And when had she begun to develop her own architectural aesthetic anyway? I mean, we have been talking about the Walker's new building but hell! Gawdy???

But then I understood her newly invented adjective. . . God - y. Which I guess, really is not that much different.

No idea where she got that.

When we explained the cultural aspect of our choice she seemed to get it.

But I wanna go where [her cousin] goes!

But she obviously doesn't yet get the urban/suburban split yet and all the personality ramifications that go with it. Her cousins live in a way northern suburb that is a) even MORE pale, b) devoid of sidewalks and c) only close to chain restaurants and coffee shops.

On our way out of the neighborhood overpriced boutique grocer (which happens to be across the street from Annunciation and therefore nearly assuring them of our business for the next nine years) we stopped to put the receipt into the little Annunciation box.

Why are we doing that? She asked.

Oh. [Guessing.] I think that this store will give your school some money if we do this. You know, money for learning aids, like computers.

So I can email you?

Absolutely.

Priceless.

Minnesota AIDS Walk

I'm raising some bling for the Minnesota AIDS Walk and unabashedly asking for your support. A few years ago, my brother's t-cell count went below 200 and we all about had a heart attack. I just feel like I need to do something to help people out who aren't as lucky.

Children As Public Goods

My econ courses are oriented not around an analytical description of perfect competition, or the Neoclassical model, but around where the market fails to create an optimal equilibrium or, in the vernacular, "market failures". In my opinion, this is the entrance for policy discussions or, what makes economics interesting in the first place.

An interesting question that is relevant to all sorts of current topics ranging from gay marriage to work-life policies is the degree to which the government is responsible for families and children, both in terms of encouraging and supporting marriage (however defined) and in terms of financial support in terms of direct and indirect subsidies as well as direct transfers.

I have not done the research on the history of family policy in the US (or elsewhere for that matter) or seen a history on family-friendly policies, but there has been some work on the notion that children are public goods.

There are several definitions of public goods, here, and here for example and according to another FFE Samuelson et al.'s version of public goods had very restricted definitions: things that had to be provided by the government, if they were to be provided at all (Feminist Economics Listserve, 4/10/2005).

Recently Crooked Timber has commented on the topic as well, referencing yet another FFE (one of my personal favs).

More Male-Student Badgering and Indications of Further Declines in Student Evaluations

Yesterday during office hours, a student from my intermediate microeconomics course came in to "discuss a few things with me". I usually take this to mean: not the course material but something exogenous to problems, lectures, the text, etc.

He beat around the bush for a while. Called my office "homely" when he meant "home-y" and finally said:

You're office hours suck.

Really? Did you ever email me to tell me that?

No.

Well, I made it clear at the start of the class that I would be willing to come in at different times to accomodate your busy schedules.

Oh.

Did you ever email me with any questions on the material? I nearly always respond to students within a couple of hours. . . Even on weekends.

Um. No. . .

Don't you think that was your responsibility?

Sometimes I would have questions on the problems but then I would just put my book away and move on to another subject.

Oh. . . You could write down your questions and then bring them to class. Without asking questions during class, I have no idea what parts of the material you are misunderstanding.

Really? Well, that would be great! Maybe you should have told us at the beginning of the class that we could do that.

Me: Mouth agape. Speechless.

Annie Get Your Gun!!!

JHC. Sometimes its embarassing to teach in Wisconsin. . .

I wouldn't even BLOG that. . .

With the cash from some anonymous trust fund that our department has, we infrequently can attract some fairly big-named speakers to campus. And, for better or for worse, the funder prefers Nobel Prize winners.

I suppose I was somewhat starstruck at the possibility of meeting this particular winner, having Time on the Cross during the pursuit of my M.A., and then having studied the Economics of Slavery with one of his colleagues while in my pursuit of becoming a studente en perpetuity. I encouraged all of my students to attend, with the tagline that meeting a nobel prize winner is a unique opportunity, blah blah blah.

So, here I am, The Eternally Ungrateful.

I hated the talk (if you could call it a talk as he literally READ the paper that we were sent prior to his arrival. Of course, I had not personally read the paper prior to his arrival, but that isn't the point.) and thought it was ridiculous. The talk was on economic growth and some of the authors work on what he calls "technophysio evolution", which was interesting enough. But beyond that, I felt like the talk was un-academic, unsupported by any of the current and relevant literature, and, finally, un-inspired.

The ultimate blow to my by then wasted precious several hours was his discussion on relative poverty and concern over material distribution over time.

Those who worry about egalitarian issues tend to think about distribution in terms of material goods such as food, clothing and shelter which used to constitute over 80 percent of the consumption of households. To be poor in the decades before World War I was to be deprived of these tangible essentials of life and to be vulnerable to diseases and early death. In that age, things that you could see, count, weigh, or otherwise directly measure constituted the overwhelming output of an economy.

True enough.

The agenda for egalitarian policies that has dominated reform movements for most of the past century, the modernist agenda, was based on material redistribution. The critical aspect of a postmodern egalitarian agenda is not the distribution of money income, or food, or shelter, or consumer durables. Although there are still glaring inadequacies in the distribution of material commodities that must be addressed, the most intractable maldistributions in rich countries such as the United States are in the realm of spiritual or immaterial assets. These are the critical assets in the struggle for self-realization.

His term for this sort of poverty was spiritual estrangement.

Okay, granted, I'd rather be poor in 2005 than poor in 1905, but tell that homeless guy on the corner of 46th and Nicolet with his sign announcing to the world that he's hungry and out of work, that he should be worried about the Socratarian "Good life" rather than his next meal.

This argument drives me nuts and I get it all the time from students. They like to wash their hands of gender issues in the work place by saying that the gender wage gap is "getting better." With the implication that it will suddenly vanish in the near future, discrimination with it.

Tell that to the gal sitting next to you at the factory earning $0.23 less per hour (at 40 hours per week, 50 weeks per year and 40 years later, that's $18,400 my friend. And that's not counting raises, promotions, fringe benefits, or the loss that women experience from time off to have kids).

My copy of Time on the Cross (used from a library sale) remains unsigned by the author.

Relativity

Today we were at the park where they have the tire swing in which the FYO likes to spin wildly.

She likes to be spun so fast on that tire, its as though she is preparing to enter the Air Force Academy by simulating g-forces, showing the strength of her stomach. She gets going so fast that any tears, drool, spit, snot or other liquid substance eking from her facial orafices immediately flatten into droplets that slowly crawl down her cheeks, ultimately drying into a salty streak.

And still. It is not fast enough.

SPIN ME!! FASTER! HIGHER!!

Today she was having me spin her, post-sandwich, in tandem with Sidekick. They were sitting side-by-side, two/thirds of the tire, which made the spin quite lopsided--elliptical even--with the empty seat nearly swiping me at each wide orbit.

Sidekick wasn't LOVING it, so we moved into the slow lane to accomodate her seemingly weak stomach.

The FYO then announced that they would be switching places.

Why?

Because MY seat's the slow seat.

??

. . .

Aren't they the same?

No. When you spin us fast, it is just fine for me, but WAY to fast for her!

Thwarted again by her impeccable logic.

More Bullying... Does this happen to male professors?

Dear Professor BlogAuthor,

I spoke to you last Tuesday about my grade in ECO336. I have earned an AB on FWA#1, FWA#2, and on the midterm. I have been working hard, doing the readings, and attending class every day, but I am still stuck on an AB. It is important to me to bring up my grade to an A. I understand your point about A's being reserved for exceptional performances and that an AB is good, but I still wish to earn an A in the class. I am willing to do extra credit if that's what it takes to bring my final grade up to an A.
Thank you for discussing my grade with me. I appreciate your willingness to listen to my concerns.

Thank you,
Shameless-Grade-Grubber

Refreshment Anyone?

Check this out via Taggert over at A Random Walk. Having moved Midwest to East and kicking-and-screaming back to Midwest, I would have thought the fault line would have been the Mississippi (as it is with trailer parks).

Assessment Strategy for Dating Services

Check out this site via HFRM#1. It is like ratemyprofessorsdotcom but for the singles crowd!

The economist in me applauds such informal evaluation strategies (even though they have kicked my arse). More information makes for better competition.

Professor As Benevolent Dictator?

Paul Krugman is right on in his April 5 New York Times column questioning the liberal bias at universities and the movement toward "academic freedom" which "would give students who think that their conservative views aren't respected the right to sue their professors.

He hypothesises that more liberals are in academia because of self-selection: the same sort of self-selection that leads Republicans to outnumber Democrats four to one in the military. The sort of person who prefers an academic career to the private sector is likely to be somewhat more liberal than average, even in engineering.

He then goes on to comment on the Republican-inspired "theocracy"-campaign to increase the "diversity of thought" on campuses. Note this typical "Bushspeak" (white is black/black is white) means exactly the opposite of what it sounds like.

Consider the statements of Dennis Baxley, a Florida legislator who has sponsored a bill that - like similar bills introduced in almost a dozen states - would give students who think that their conservative views aren't respected the right to sue their professors. Mr. Baxley says that he is taking on "leftists" struggling against "mainstream society," professors who act as "dictators" and turn the classroom into a "totalitarian niche." His prime example of academic totalitarianism? When professors say that evolution is a fact.

. . .

Think of the message this sends: today's Republican Party - increasingly dominated by people who believe truth should be determined by revelation, not research - doesn't respect science, or scholarship in general. It shouldn't be surprising that scholars have returned the favor by losing respect for the Republican Party.

Conservatives should be worried by the alienation of the universities; they should at least wonder if some of the fault lies not in the professors, but in themselves. Instead, they're seeking a Lysenkoist solution that would have politics determine courses' content.

And it wouldn't just be a matter of demanding that historians play down the role of slavery in early America, or that economists give the macroeconomic theories of Friedrich Hayek as much respect as those of John Maynard Keynes. Soon, biology professors who don't give creationism equal time with evolution and geology professors who dismiss the view that the Earth is only 6,000 years old might face lawsuits.

In light of this I am revamping my Women in the U.S. Economy course. Specifically the section on the division of household labor. Now, instead of a critique of Becker's application of trade theory to men and women in the household, I'll embrace it encouraging a return to the idealized 1950s housewife scrubbing and cleaning, making homemade pie,decorating easter eggs with home-made dyes, and delivering beers to the tv room for her loving benevolent dictator on efficiency grounds.

Let's see of the students buy that diverse opinion!

Dessert Conversation

When there is even the slightest possibility of ice cream in the immediate future, the FYO becomes obsessed.

When can I have my ice cream? Is it vanilla? I WANTED vanilla!!! Is it vanilla? When can I have it?

Opening the freezer door: I'm just looking at my ice cream.

Taking the pint out of the freezer: I'm just getting it ready.

Then there's last night's plan: I don't want any chocolate sauce on my vanilla ice cream.

WHAAAA? No CHOCOLATE sauce?

No.

Who ARE you?

I'm [FYO's full name].

You simply CANNOT really be a member of this family if you don't want chocolate sauce on your ice cream.

When the time finally arrives, we all sit down with our little sundays, BioMom and I pouring the chocolate sauce over the, unfortunately, low-fat yogurt that we're eating instead of the lovely full-fat vanilla that the FYO is consuming.

OH-KAY. . . I'll TRY the chocolate sauce. . .

WHAAA? A change of mind?

Yeah. . . I'll TRY it, I said!

I pour it over half of her sunday and she tastes. . .

Teasing: Do you SEE now how WRONG you were????

Giggling: TOTALLY. I was TOTALLY WRONG!!!

The Dream

The other night I dreamt that BioMom was pregnant.

But my reaction wasn't joyful. I felt hurt and betrayed.

It was this bizarre circumstance. She had been out with a friend of ours, BigTimeLesbianLawyer, and apparently had to go to the hospital for an emergency.

BigTimeLesbianLawyer (BTLL) called me and I rushed to the hospital. While there, BioMom showed me a printout of her results, some of which indicated that she was pregnant. It turned out that she had told BTLL before me and told me in that half-assed inadvertent way.

Sublimating anyone?

Welcome to Blogsphere Hardass!

Mind Body Blow

Waiting for the Lakes to Drop

Before I moved up here I would never have considered the virtual sport of waiting for the lakes to drop.

No, this is not a version of chicken little. It is a real phenomenon where Minneapololosians predict when the last crust of ice on the many metropolitan lakes will be overtaken by the moving water and literally drop to the bottom.

It is fascinating, and I am unable to find a reference to lake dropping in Google, although I'll admit to having the wrong term (via BioMom).

I just rode past Lake Harriet and Lake Calhoun and neither lake had dropped.

Clearly, there are a few weeks left until spring is officially here.

More on Casual Dating

April 3, 2005
Casual Relationships, Yes. Casual Sex, Not Really.
By ALEX WILLIAMS

FOR the young and the single in New York dating has always been a numbers game, whether it is tabulating the guy-to-girl ratio at a bar or guessing at the bank balance of the quarry across the dance floor. Still, it is not every night that a group of unattached young women in low-slung jeans sit around pondering questions that might stump a mathematician at Caltech, questions like can one plus nine ever equal just nine?

"I know a lot of people who will go home with the same guy they have before just because it's not going to raise their number," explained Jennifer Babbit, 26, a publicist.

"A lot of my friends will say: 'I started having sex with this guy, but it only lasted a minute. I don't know if it counted,' " offered Beth Whiffen, a former associate editor at Cosmopolitan.

The number in question is the total number of men that a woman has slept with, and the question is on their minds because they were among two dozen or so young Manhattanites who dropped by One Little West 12, a restaurant and club in the meatpacking district of Manhattan, on Tuesday to discuss "The Hookup Handbook: A Single Girl's Guide to Living It Up" by Andrea Lavinthal and Jessica Rozler, published last month (Simon Spotlight Entertainment).

The book's title and many of its guidelines ("Getting a room isn't just polite, it's a necessity") suggest that a new sexual revolution is afoot among a fast-and-loose generation nurtured on the wisdom of "Sex and the City," who see boyfriends as passé, dating as dated and the idea of commitment laughable. But an evening spent in the company of Ms. Lavinthal, Ms. Rozler and their friends suggests that mating rituals of the much-celebrated hookup culture, at least as practiced by young professional women, seems to owe as much to Doris Day as to Samantha Jones.

Yes, they take pride in having thrown off the shackles of earlier generations of single women. They are not waiting on Friday night hoping "he" will call. They make the first move. They happily see two or three guys simultaneously. Spontaneity is crucial, but even more is a good clean exit strategy from any guy who turns out to be Mr. Not Exactly.

"It's not that people aren't dating," explained Ms. Rozler, an editorial assistant at Allworth Press when she is not practicing nightclub anthropology. "It's that there's this weird gray area. People still want to be in relationships, but they don't want to be settling."

But even as they raise pink drinks in the air and roll their eyes at the absurdity of commitment, these are not women embracing sexual abandon. The courtship rites of this generation of urban singles seem to borrow from the mores of their grandmothers in the 1950's (date lots of boys; smooch, spoon, nuzzle or neck to your heart's content, but hold out for that pledge pin from Mr. Right) as much as from those of their mothers' love-the-one-you're-with 70's.

"Most girls don't have one-night stands," Ms. Whiffen said. "They might have one or two in their life."

Take the number discussion, for example. Yes, there are conquests, but there should not be too many of them. So among this group of women with three-inch heels tipping out of their $200 jeans what is the right number, that is, the last number before you hit the wrong one? Few women would want to go over 20, or even 15, Ms. Babbit said, because they would "think of themselves as big sluts."

"Ten at the most," Caroline Homlish, 24, summarized in a tone that brooked no dissent.

"A lot of girls are not having casual sex," explained Ms. Lavinthal, an editor at Cosmopolitan, even as she conceded that the title of her book had racy overtones.

It might come as a surprise that anyone under the age of 29 would need a definition for a term that has grown as ubiquitous in youth culture as customized ring tones. Still, the back cover of "The Hook-up Handbook" makes a stab at it: a hookup is "anything from making out to doing the nasty, generally with no commitment or plans for said commitment." But as Ms. Lavinthal and Ms. Rozler explain it, a hookup has less to do with what happens between people than with the surrounding circumstances: specifically, that the meeting is unplanned and even unexpected. "Nobody's waiting by the phone," Ms. Lavinthal said. "For one thing, you can take the phone with you."

Most women at the club expounded happily on what a hookup meant for them. "Late-night grinding on the dance floor, maybe a little groping" was one version, said Kate Kilgore, who is in public relations at Victoria's Secret Beauty. The few men who spoke up seemed to find the elastic nature of the term somewhat tiresome. "There are so many definitions," said Corey Zolcinski, a commercial real estate representative and disc jockey. "Some people think that it means meeting for a drink."

The age of the hookup certainly does not seem to mean a new era of free love. "I wish it were because my sex life would be much better," said Greg Kiely, 26, a former investment banker who is now applying to business graduate schools.

While men are obviously central to the "The Hookup Handbook" ethos (do you want to hook up with a Metroman or a Himbo tonight?), boyfriends are most definitely not. "A relationship isn't the easiest thing to maintain, but swearing off boys isn't a viable option either," the chapter on "Defensive Non-Dating" states. "The result of this epiphany: You refuse to put yourself out there. Instead, you just put out." As for the crowd assembled at One, where a party for Stolichnaya thundered in the background, the prospect of a serious relationship before the age of 25 seemed to hold all the appeal of a promotional party with a cash bar.

"It's not about courtship and the chase," Ms. Kilgore said. "It's not that it's a free-for-all like the 60's, but it's about independent women staking their claim, making their mark and doing what they want."

Ms. Kilgore estimated that out of a random group of 10 women her age, only two or three will have a steady boyfriend, and the pressure that existed even a decade ago to be seen having a boyfriend had lessened. That, she said, is liberating. "I'll go through phases where I'm hooking up or making out with a guy a week," she said matter-of-factly, "but then go a month" without.

She guessed that on average she probably hooks up 10 or 12 times a year, something that can mean "lots of vodka, feeling the connection," but not always sex.

"It's all about fun," Ms. Lavinthal added of her approach to dating. "It's not the death of romance. It's like relationship light. No one's going to say no to making out with a cute guy on a Saturday night."

But while the language of the hook-up culture sounds debauched ("Drink Till He's Cute" is one chapter heading), most of the women who will plunk down $14.95 for the book are children of the 80's. These girls grew up just wanting to have fun but knew not to have too much.

"We've had so much sex ed," Ms. Lavinthal said. "With strangers, we are really cautious of the disease thing."

And merely willing that age-old standards no longer apply does not make it so. "Girls are becoming more like guys, but there is still a double standard," Ms. Homlish argued. "You are told you can do everything, but you can't. If a girl is dating three guys at the same time, she's looked down upon."

Dig deeper and it turns out that most of the hookup aficionados assembled that night do not see hooking up as a seemly way to approach their 30's.

While most women agreed that serious dating is being delayed at least a bit these days, they also said they don't plan on living a "Sex and the City" life when they are anywhere near as old as the women on that series.

Ms. Whiffen said she has seen many examples of women who insist they are going to keep hooking up with no thought of having a serious boyfriend until they are at least 25. "But the second 'he' comes along," she said knowingly, "it's done."

And while "The Hookup Handbook" explicitly forbids its readers to mistake a hookup for a potential boyfriend, not everyone thought that was realistic. "People who are hooking up are trying to get into a serious relationship," insisted Caitlin Gaffey, 24, a beauty assistant at the magazine Shop Etc. "On the girls' side, that's almost always true."

"You can't just hook up with anyone," added Ms. Gaffey, a graduate of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. "You have to learn a lot about him before you hook up. Guys are not picky. We're the ones who are picky. It's kind of like shopping."

Even Ms. Lavinthal said she is "more of a boyfriend girl than a hookup girl, to be perfectly honest." As she sees it, hooking up is more what you do between boyfriends, and it is often the only option for busy young women trying to juggle career, friends and romance. "It's almost like attention-deficit disorder," she said. "There are just too many things going on."

For Helen Gurley Brown, for 31 years the editor of Cosmopolitan and the author of perhaps the original dating manual, "Sex and the Single Girl," which was published in 1962, the lives and concerns of Ms. Lavinthal and her friends show that not much has changed in 30 years, except perhaps the verbs.

"I think it was sort of established in 1962 that you didn't have to be married to have a good life," she said. "I think these young women are probably a living example of what was said at that time."

The Wisconsin Badger: More Than a Mascot!

Via Hardass, I tracked down a useful article by Hamermesh (Centennial Professor of Economics, University of Texas at Austin and thesis advisor of a to-remain-anonymous colleague/mentor/advisor in my department) that relates to a discussion following this posted letter that I received from a student.

Let me quote an interesting passage:

I've seen male students attempt to bully young professors, especially women, into allowing more points on exams, providing extra exam time, postponing exams and other grade-badgering. This subtle, and often less subtle coecion doesn't belong in a university. Givinig in to such requests often means more work for you and gives the student the idea that he (once in a while she) can play the system. You are the authority, and erring on the side of toughness with such students will save you further troubles.

Minnesota: The Liberal State

April-fucking-fools.

Comments Least Likely To Improve Student Evaluations

But most likely to relieve tension after reading student garbage:

Grade: D (This is a gift.)

As Heard on MPR

Last night while driving I heard about this blog on MPR.

P(orn)eg(g)nancy or Happy Belated Easter

This via HFRM#1 is worth a look.

How I Annoy Myself: Part I

So, last night BioMom and I took the next step in our fertility journey.

The group course on Mind-Body Spirituality/Fertility.

Yes. We have become two of those people. The people that attend self-help groups.

Last night was one of three nights in which the "husbands" are invited to attend over the course of the course (of course).

It was actually pretty cool and what became clear is that the course will focus on ways to relax, meditate, etc. which can be nothing but good, right?

Anyway, during the part where we sat in a circle and went around introducing ourselves, saying what is unique about ourselves, and our goals, I annoyed the hell out of myself.

So, I have this terrible habit of babbling incoherently when I am nervous.

It was all planned out in my head: the loving introduction of me and BioMom, the witty something-special that links to something husband X across the room said, the cherished goal that reveals my soft-inner-partner-supporting self.

You get the picture.

But what came out was utter self-prioritizing, incomprehensible, babble that turned out to be, IMHO, completely impertinent in hindsight.

When it came to his turn, WannabeProgenetor#1 across the room said something to the effect of:

Two years ago I would never have predicted how much I now know about the female reproductive system!

This, of course, generated huge laughs. Laughs like those out-of-proportion canned laughs on Everybody Loves Raymond (which, by the way IS NOT FUNNY). And a GINORMOUS snort from BioMom which only egged me on. I can top that!! I thought. I can make her laugh more!

JANE LAUGH AT HIM!?!
ME TARZANA.
ME FUNNY.
ME GET LAUGHTER!
ME GET MORE LAUGHTER THAN COMPETITION!

So it gets to me. . . And at the moment at which I am supposed to speak, my internal double-skim-latte-no-whip spills all over the blueprint-for-comic-relief in my brain and I have nothing to reference.

The problem? I shoot from the hip (innacurately I might add):

Hi. I'm [Blogauthor] and this is my partner [BioMom].

No pause whatsoever.

Like WannabeProgenetor#1, I too, find myself knowing more about the female body than I ever did before.

[HUGE LAUGH]

But that's not enough for me and I can't even pause until people stop laughing so that people aren't even hearing me at this point. Even if they WANTED to listen.

You know those people that ask "When will you know that she's pregnant?"?. Duh. "When she does or does not get her period.". . . Well, I was one of those people.

Again, no pause in sight.

But I can tell you that I do now know when I am ovulating!

Then. THEN. Because I can't stop talking. . . I go on to say that we have a FYO, that I blog about her, and that they. . . The. People. In. The. FERTILITY. Self. Help. Group. Many of whom, as it turns out, have been struggling for YEARS with fertility, lost friends and family, feel lost, feel alone, feel afraid, full-of-grief, and like a total freaks from the land of misfit toys. . . :

Can expect to be included in MY BLOG!?!

Yes. I actually said that.

BioMom rushes in with a strong -- nearly violent -- ANONYMOUSLY!

What the EFF is my problem?

How To Annoy Me

Send me an email with only the word "Thanks" on it.

J.H.C. I HATE that. Especially if the server is slow.

What the eff?

The individual voted most likely to do this in my life is someone I should be grateful to have the opportunity to be around. To be in the presence of her genius. Someone so smart, influential, and interesting in my field that I should not only be SAVING those stupid "Thanks" emails but sending "Thanks" emails BACK just for thanking me.

She is a Famous Feminist Economist with whom I am currently editing a special issue of the journal, practically founded by her (and a few other now FFE's).

I know, you're saying: How many could there be? and How hard could it be to become an FFE. Whine about Title IX a bit in the New York Times or something and shouldn't that qualify?

I'll let you know when it happens for me.

But, for now, for the record, I did, honestly, one day find myself a) in a boat that was b) powered by a man standing on its hind end while c) drinking cheap champagne with d) said FFE.

Priceless.

What's the problem? You ask.

Instead of feeling grateful, I, more often than not, feel profoundly annoyed. Said FFE, is unmeasurably interesting. She and her family fled the oncoming Nazi onslaught in the former Czechoslovakia before WWII when she was little; she went to the famous Chicago school of economics and studied with MILTON FRIEDMAN!! and this is just the tip of the iceberg of her extraordinary life. But at the same time she, literally, never tires of telling me, someone, ANYONE within EARSHOT about it. . . And not just the interesting stuff. And. . . Not just in person.

So, while I receive a barrage of emails with the only word "Thanks" in the body (I mean, Christ. "Thanks" isn't worth the wait of the email to open even with a HIGHSPEED ISP). I ALSO receive the daily minutiae. Every. Single. Detail. And it would even be more tolerable if it was a friend-to-friend email. Believe me. I can tolerate-enjoy even-the minutiae from my pals. Minutiae is GREAT from pals. Its gossip. Its details. Its the bits and pieces of LIFE. But this!?! THIS is Let me explain my daily tripe to you in excruiciating details so that you recognize why it took me 36, rather than 24 hours to respond to your last email. Oh, also, and to remind you that I'm famous and all the famous people I interact with regularly.

Maybe I'm overreacting.

Maybe I'm jealous.

Maybe its just that it is impersonal.

Maybe its that I feel like ANY ear, rather than THE ear.

In any case: THANKS BUT NO THANKS!

Dinner Conversation

Me: Wow. You're certainly being a Contrary Mary today!

FYO: NO!!!

Lez's 1950's-Style Mother-Drive-By

O.k. Here's a great Mother Drive By via Cousin's Mom "Lez":

My oldest sister had to take her 6 month old twin girls to the doctor. Another sister went along to help, because they had to go on public transportation and carry the babies in their arms. When they were coming home, totally exhausted from carrying these heavy babies, there was a 2 or 3 block walk from the bus stop to her home. As they were struggling along, loaded down with all the accoutrements that go with any trip outside the home with a baby, a big white Cadillac squealed to a halt on the busy street beside them. They both thought, Oh how nice. Someone is going to offer us a ride home! But NO! The woman reached across, rolled down the window of her air-conditioned car and screeched out "Get those babies' eyes out of the
sun!!" She roared off, leaving them in a cloud of dust!!

Match Dot Com

Cousin and Number 2 are here!!!!!!

We're reverting back to our explorer days when we first started enjoying the internet and all of its chat-room glory.

We're making up fake Match.com names and checking out all of the *ahem* possibilities.

So far, her number2 ("lulu") will surely be getting many winks from various suitors.

BioMom, the FYO, and Number2 are tucked into their beds with care and we're down here downing our second bottle of wine and, well, enjoying technology!

It all started with Dooce's revalation of her so-called Lanced Cyst, and then we went on an exploration of HFRM's Size 15s, then, on to our mutual friend who is obviously gay but doesn't really want to admit it yet "dates" married men on the side's match.com advertisement (for men, by the way).

We'll be posting about our weekend of debauchery tomorrow (from the Bryant Lake Bowl).

Until then.

Ibuh Subbuh Scribebuh Forbuh Thebuh Articlesbuh

This via Wonkette is another installment of humor at the expense of the Bush twins.

I'm still laughing about Tina Fey and Amy Poehle's Saturday Night Live imitation of the Bush twins after the inauguration.

In an attempt to avoid potential eavesdropping, they launch into Twinspeak, or adding a "buh" at the end of of every syllable.

At one point Will Forte enters the room in his Bush impersonation and claims to not be able to understand the two.

It was hilarious!

It Must Be Getting Close to the Last Drop/Add Date

. . . because I am starting to get emails like the email I have attached below. Why is it that students believe that effort should automatically translate into a higher grade? If effort translated into a higher salary I'd be . . . Well, I guess I wouldn't be putting forth much effort. . .

After getting my last paper I was wondering if it is even possible for me to pass the class. I received a D\F on the first paper, an F on the second, a 92 on the mid term, and whatever our group got for our lesson. I put in a large amount of effort on the last paper, and for me to only get an F I don't feel is fair. I just felt that a D might have been fair. I was wondering if there was anyway for me to make that a D. If I could fix the mistakes, go over the notes with you anything to get that D. I will rewrite the whole paper, just anything to bring it up from an F to a D. You told me that I should look at my priorities, and I have, but you need to understand that if I want to go to school I need to work as much as I do! But, I did cut back on my hours at work, and my Finance 370 course which was 4 days a week till 5:30, is now over, so I can come in to see you and at least go to the writing lab now! I had 5 tests that day in a row, it wasn't the greatest week of my life, plus this paper, not an excuse just a bad week!

I need to pass this class this semester, and I have never dropped a class. I am asking if there was still anyway to pass, and if I could bring that F to a D! I understand that you cant give out freebies, but I need just a little help, I hope that you somewhat understand.

please email me back before Friday so I know if I need to drop. I am done with work at three on Wednesday if I can come and talk to you about this, I hope that this wasn't a ridiculous email!

Dad's In The Car!

I felt like Ellen Degeneres in If These Walls Could Talk 2 yesterday carrying the dry-ice tank labled "body fluids!!" to the car.

The nurse wished us off with a friendly Take care of the fellas!

We drove carefully home, more aware than ever of the precariousness of driving in a major metropolitan area, with heightened concerns over possible car accidents. Of course, the bodily fluid is less than an ounce, but talk about priceless!

Keep your fingers crossed for us!

Brady Bunch as Metaphor

I find myself lately making metaphorical references to the Brady Bunch to get my points across.

The show, despite not having seen it in nearly a decade (why can I literally turn the television on at any time of day or night and see Rachel Green, but not Marsha Brady?) is infiltrating my conscience.
For example, when discussing the logistical arrangements of a possible new child (no -- we don't have any news) I reference the FYO's inevitable desire for her very own "Greg-Brady-Room" with the bead-door, on a separate floor of the house.

Oh, and of course, there's the regular exclamation of "Oh! My Nose!" and "Mom always told us: Don't play ball in the house!"

Recently though, I've found myself singing that Davey Jones song "Girl" in an over-the-top British accent to BioMom and the FYO in the car. Its from the episode "Getting Davey Jones"
Third Season, 1971-72, number 63. Original airdate: December 10, 1971, Directed by Oscar Rudolph. Written by Phil Leslie and Al Schwartz

If you don't recall, its the episode where Marcia, president of the Davy Jones fan club at school, rashly promises to get him to appear at the prom when she doesn't even know how to get in touch with him. Davey Jones eventually shows up and sings the song "Girl" (which, incidently, I can't find on any actual Monkees album, other than what seems to be a summer tour album where he sings the song apparently on request and actually references Marsha at the beginning) to Marsha. Afterwards, he
kisses her cheek, launching her into a dreamy spin where she refuses to wash ever again.


The FYO, however, complains that my version is "too short" because, of course, I don't know all the words.

You should hear the FYO try to imitate my horrible British accent.

PRICELESS.

The song:
Girl.
Look what you've done to me.
Me.
And my whole world.
Girl.
You've brought the sun to me.
With your smile.
Ya did it girl.
I'm telling you, girl.
Something unknown to me.
Makes you what you are.
And what you are
Is all
That I want for me.
And its good
To feel that way girl!
Thank you, GIRL!
For makin' the night times nicer, GIRL!
For makin' the good times brighter, GIRL!
For makin' a bettah world for me!
I'm telling you, girl.
Something unknown to me
Makes you what you are
And what you are,
Is all
that I want for me!
And its good
To feel
That way, girl.
Thank you GIRL!
For makin' the night times nicer, GIRL
For makin' the good times brighter GIRL
For makin' a bettah world for me!

Thank you GIRL!
For makin' the winter warmer GIRL
for makin' the music softer, GIRL!
For makin' a bettah world for me!
Thank you Giiiiiirl!!

The Better to BLANK You With, My Dear

So, HFRM#1 is out on the dating scene, nearly a year after her breakup with a friend of mine [note, friend, if you're reading this, you have been warned that it may not be material suitable to your eyes].

As all of the topical books will tell you, its rough out there for a thirty-something on the scene.

Recently, however, she's been seeing someone slightly more regularly, but it has been defined (mutually) as "casual dating."

This term is highly confusing to me.

Although BioMom and I didn't do the U-Haul thing, I don't think we EVER dated in a CASUAL way. So, I regularly query HFRM#1 for a translation and an update.

Today's lunch over sushi was the recent installment.

So, I'm getting a little concerned.

About what.

About *ahem* his preferences.

What do you mean, 'preferences'? Is he gay?

No. . . I wish. . . I could deal with gay. . . I'm concerned he might have a foot fetish.

Wha? Licking. . . Sucking. . .

Interrupting: NOOOO! No. No. NO! Nothing like that.

Then what? I mean, a little foot rub would be great!

Sure. A foot rub IS great. This is NOT a little foot rub. There seems to be a bit of a focus on the foot.

FOTF? Okay. Back it up. Explain. Put this in context. . . You're sitting and watching t.v. and he starts rubbing your foot? You're out to dinner and he reaches down and pulls your foot between his legs? That's called SEXY, my friend!

No.

Okay. You're making out and he reaches for your foot first?

Well, yes and no.

Huh? HE PICKS YOUR FEET OVER YOUR BOOBS?

No. . . Its just that there is a lot of attention centered on my feet. . . He's all "You have small feet!" And I'm all "you have big feet! . . . Size 15, right?"

Turns out he is listed on Match.Com and actually put in his foot size into his description:

"Just bought some ice skates for my size 15's ..."

If THAT is not an advertisement, I don't know what is!

I feel like I'm little red riding hood and he's the big bad wolf: What big FEET you have, Grandma!!!

Anyway. . . He rubs them. Likes my socks. . . Reaches for the top of my socks. And I wear tall socks, you know? ITS COLD!. . . He removes my socks. . .

Maybe its just "How naked can I get her?" not an actual bona fide FOOT FETISH!

Teasing: So, Dr. Big likes the fe-et! He's heading SO-HOUTH!Skipping the equator and heading to the Antarctic!

That would be sad. That would be really sad. It'd be over if he had a foot fetish. I hate feet. I hate my own feet! I hate having my socks off. Hell. I hate SOCKS!! . . . Not shoes though. Love shoes. Shoes cover feet. Like rock-paper-scissors for feet.

Yeah. That WOULD be sad.

Yeah. Ending it before I had the chance verify the size 15s!

You Can Be Whatever You Want To Be

As feminist parents of a girl, you find yourself telling her that when she grows up, she can be wahtever she wants to be as though it is some sort of mantra.

This is more than a little ridic on more than one level, not the least of which is that neither BioMom's nor my parents used that mantra and we both turned out alright.

In fact, I remember the following interaction with Dear-Old-Dad when I was about the FYO's age:

Wanna know what I want to be when I grow up?

What?

A SCIENTIST!

You're not smart enough for that, [blog author]!

Harumpf!

Obviously I've still got a bit of "mad-at-dad syndrome" with which to deal.

Anyway, I say this mantra to the FYO knowing that its not quite true. Let's face it, the FYO is not going to be a professional ballet dancer (those of you that know her can vouch for that). But she will also never be what she announced she wanted to be the other day while having lunch at Chapati.

After observing two beautiful women walk in with lovely Sari's the FYO says:

I want to be an Indian when I grow up.

BioMom: Well, you can't really BECOME an Indian. You are BORN that way.

Me: You could MARRY an Indian!

My suggestion was myopic. I was hungry and all-things-curry smelled good. Oh, and that pudding: Kheer. I WANTED that pudding. . . . Then I thought better of it, remembering two relevant facts:

1. My cousin (daughter #1 of "Lez", not the famed "Cousin" of this blog who is daughter #2 of Lez) married a Greek and now LIVES in Greece. The last time I saw her and her three kids was in 1997.

2. This post by Dooce:

This month you have also figured out how to open things, things that aren't supposed to be opened, things with LOCKS HOLDING THEM SHUT. You know the unlock code on the babysitter's cell phone and once called her Peruvian boyfriend, Chimmy. Chimmy Chimmy Cocoa Puffs has taken hold of your heart somehow because you will say things for that boy that you won't say for anyone else, things like, "Uh, oh," and "Wow wow wow," and "Taco." Here's the thing, kid: if you fall in love with some boy from another country and he takes you away to that other country where I won't ever get to see you or my grandchildren then you can just consider yourself grounded until you're 80, or at least until you fall in love with someone nearby who has a lot of money.

So no. You can't become OR marry an Indian. Unless, of course, he lives in the greater metropolitan area.

And is rich.

And has a good sense of humor.

Oh yeah. . . And is a good cook.

The Velveteen Rabitt

O.k. so thanks to Disurbonce for the book suggestion. I went to the library and found the edition with which I was familiar and read it to the FYO with great anticipation.

It was a little late in the day (8 p.m.) and we were snuggled in with some milk and a cookie.

I was reading away, hoping that she could tolerate the long-on-words/short-on-pictures story.

We got to the part where they were going to burn the shabby, well-loved rabitt after the boy's bout with scarlet fever when I hear a few sniffles coming from the FYO laying on my chest.

Are you okay?

Its so SAD!

Don't worry. It'll get better!

Turns out she was totally paying attention and promptly reported about the possibilities of REALNESS to BioMom this morning!

6-Month Forecast Looks Rosy

From Your Five-Year-Old: Sunny and Serene by Louise Bates Ames,and Frances L. Ilg (okay, the language and some of the content is really sexist, but its great stuff and the pictures remind me of when I was growing up as these books were written in the '70s):

What can you as a parent expect of you Five-year-old boy or girl? It is a pleasure to tell you that with most Five-year-olds, some very good times are ahead. Five wants to be good, means to be good, and more often than not succeeds in being good.

Perhaps most delightful of all his characteristics is that he enjoys life so much and looks so consistently on the sunny side. "Today is my lucky day," he will tell you as he jumps out of bed in the morning. Or, enthusiastically, "Today I'm going to do all the good things and none of the bad things."

Even his language is on the positive side: "Sure!" "All right!" "Fine!" "Lovely," "Wonderful" are among his favorite words, and "I just love ____" is a constant refrain.

The key toa ll this goodness may be that for a few months at least, Mother is the center of the child's world. He not only wants to please her, he wants to be near her. Wants to talk with her, play with her, help her with her housework, follow her around the house. Many Fives would actually rather stay in the house with Mother than go out to play with their friends.

. . .

Five, by nature, is quieter, more pulled in, closer to home. He not only prefers to stay ithin prescribed boundaries but feels most comfortable wtih the tried and true. The time that interests him is now; the place he likes beset, here.

Unlike the child of some other ages, Five often shows a remarkable ability to protect himself from overstimulation.

Five is usually not a worrier. . . He likes life the way it is, satisfied with himself, and adores his parents.

Now for the following six months: the other shoe drops.

So here you are, sailing along, happy as a lark. Your little son or daughter for almost six unbelievable months may have been good as gold. . . . Thus it can be more than a little disconcerting when all of a sudden things aren't so rosy any more. That little angel who responded oh, so easily, with "Yes, I will," now is quite likely to say "No, I won't.". . . Quite possibly, no more than the beginnings of Six-year-oldness, a time that often brings trouble into the calmest households.

Warmonger Becomes Credit Allocator?

I'm glad I don't live in Bangladesh or Bulgaria. . . From the Washington Post:

Bush Recommends Wolfowitz to Head World Bank

I don't know which is worse, this or John Bolton for the position of UN Ambassador.

A Word Of Advice

There is NOT a more boring first four words of a paper than:

"My essay focuses on . . . "

J.H.C. That makes me want to stop reading.

Not to mention that essays can't exactly focus.

I Can't Stop Thinking About It

Maybe its just because I am grading.

GRADING.

And bored with it all. I have more papers to do than I have done and I want to be doing ANYTHING BUT GRADING. Laudry? OKAY!!! HFRM#1 needs help dropping her car off at Subaru and then wants to go to REI to spend our dividends? OKAY!!!

Anyway, BioMom and I watched Kissing Jessica Stein the other night and I can't stop thinking about it.

I don't know what the glbt police say about the movie--I am irresponsibly un-critical about movies. I just go. I just eat popcorn and enjoy.

The main character was sexist and homophobic? What? I didn't notice.

My critical skills are wasted on student papers and ridiculous economic theories.

Anyway, Kissing Jessica Stein is so friggin sexy. The two leads were also the writers, Jennifer Westfeldt and Heather Juergensen. Together, they are smart, fun and sexy. The writing is smart and imho, realistic.

For me, its been like finishing a book that you don't want to end. What happens next? How did they resolve a, b, and c? PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!!! I'LL MISS YOU WHEN YOU'RE GONE!

Anyway, see it if you haven't. Comment if you have. Am I missing something or is this just a fantastic movie?

Student Envy

Emails to and from one particularly confident and fun-radiating student who reminds me of a guy with whom I studied during grad school. In my next life, I want to be his girlfriend:

Him: Here it is...my final masterpiece....enjoy the hell out of your break. I'll drink a Molson Canadian, or a Labatts Blue for you...adios.


Me: i'm already just having a blast looking over your eco308 exam. thriller.

Him: feel free to email me a test score or two if you're feeling the urge.


Me: eco308: 20 points above the mean.

Him: Cool. Thanks. Just arrived in Toronto today. Jamie and I took the train from Montreal this afternoon. Montreal was amazingly integrated. I wasn't used to all the French..forgot to brush up b4 I went. Hope you're gettin ur sheeot done and enjoying yourself at least a little.

The Dilemma

a) rule: no tv on a school day
b) FYO home with fever (on school day)
c) there exists much work to be done
d) despite fever, FYO needs attention and stuff to do.

Her Ears Were Watching God

Yesterday morning we went to mass at the uber-liberal ghetto Catholic church that we've decided to attend. (See previous posts on the decision about school/church choice).

I grew up Catholic, so there is something familiar, comforting even, about the ritual of it all.

At the start of lent, BioMom told me that one Sunday was the last sunday we could use the "A" word before Easter.

I love that shit!

And BioMom sings in this groovy Easter vigil where the church is lit completely with candles and everyone packs into the little place.

But yesterday I was not so inspired.

The priest (obviously gay) was discussing the story of Jesus' friend Lazarus. I literally have forgotten everything I learned on those Wednesday night CCD classes. In retrospect, as I spent my time thumbing through what I perceived as the poor, repressed catholic school girl-who-had-to-wear-the-same-ugly-dress-to-school-every- day's desk, my parents had a handy sitter during which they could go out for a little drinky-poo without paying a fee!

Anyway, I'm listening to this story* thinking What the hell? I DON'T BELIEVE A WORD OF THIS!!! Am I SUPPOSED to believe this? Or is this a story to get me to think about something else? What is the purpose of this? Is this worth my time? Am I here just for BioMom and the FYO? What good does this do the FYO anyway?

And on and on.

The FYO was busy playing with some cool magnet dress-up dolls she got for her birthday and munching on a cheeze stick when out of nowhere she whispers:

Mama?

So, if I believe then I won't die?

Is it true? Is it true, Mom?

Oh, God. I think. Is this all going to turn her into a THUMPER??? How do I explain THIS? Death. Afterlife. Reincarnation. Heaven. Shit. Shit. Look away. Pretend you didn't hear. Shit.
BioMom responds. Um. Well. Yes. But. . .

She scrambles.

Being a defense attorney, BioMom is an expert at only answering the question that has been asked. No more. No less.

As an aside, you can imagine, being *married* to someone like this has its pros and cons. We sometimes divide hairs over legal versus ethical lines. Is a lie of omission really a lie? Is it ethical to send the FYO to school knowing that she had a fever a mere 8 hours ago, but seems fine now because both of us have to be at a meeting in 10 minutes? Was it really o.k. that you bargained down the number of miles over the speed-limit that you were going with the judge because 9 miles over won't increase your insurance premium whereas 11 miles over would?

BioMom thinks: How do I explain that Great Grandma and Great Grandpa died?

But the FYO went on playing.



*Lazarus

Lazarus (Gk. Lazaros, a contraction of Eleazaros--see II Mach., vi, 18--meaning in Hebrew "God hath helped"), the name of two persons in the N.T.; a character in one of Christ's parables, and the brother of Martha and Mary of Bethania.

I. LAZARUS OF THE PARABLE

(1) The Story

The dramatic story of the rich man and the beggar (only in Luke, xvi, 19-31) is set forth by Christ in two striking scenes:

* Their Condition Here: The rich man was clothed in purple and byssus (D.V. fine linen), and spent each day in gay carousing. The beggar had been cast helpless at the rich man's gate, and lay there all covered with sores; he yearned for the crumbs that fell from the rich man's table, but received none, and was left to the dogs.
* Their Condition Hereafter: The early banquet is over; the heavenly banquet is begun. Lazarus partakes of the banquet in a place of honour (cf. John, xiii, 23). He reclines his head on Abraham's bosom. The rich man is now the outcast. He yearns for a drop of water. Lazarus is not allowed to leave the heavenly banquet and tend to the outcast.

(2) The Meaning

Catholic exegetes now commonly accept the story as a parable. It is also legendary that the sores of Lazarus were leprous. The purpose of the parable is to teach us the evil result of the unwise neglect of one's opportunities. Lazarus was rewarded, not because he was poor, but for his virtuous acceptance of poverty; the rich man was punished, not because he was rich, but for vicious neglect of the opportunities given him by his wealth.
II. LAZARUS OF THE MIRACLE

This personage was the brother of Martha and Mary of Bethania; all three were beloved friends of Jesus (John, xi, 5). At the request of the two sisters Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead (John, xi, 41-44). Soon thereafter, the Saturday before Palm Sunday, Lazarus took part in the banquet which Simon the Leper gave to Jesus in Bethania (Matt., xxvi, 6-16; Mark, xiv, 3-11; John, xii, 1-11). Many of the Jews believed in Jesus because of Lazarus, whom the chief priests now sought to put to death. The Gospels tell us no more of Lazarus (see ST. LAZARUS OF BETHANY).

Birthday Song Dialogue

Subtitle: Why the FYO will need therapy to deal with all of the controlling women in her life

Scene: videotape of the FYO sitting in front of Grandma's store-bought chocolate cake with five burning crayola-look-a-like candles.

Grandma: Are you ready for the singing?

FYO, barely audible: uh huh.

All: Audible deep breath. . . Happy birthday to you. . .
FYO: Gets a VERY serious look on her face.

All: Happy birtday TO YOU.

FYO: Abruptly brings up pointer finger toward one of the candles. Closer. . . Closer.

BioMom, during the downbeat of the song: DON'T TOUCH!

FYO, rushing to explain herself, still during the downbeat of the song: I was just. .

All: Happy birthday . . .

Grandma: Look up here at the camera!

FYO, looking up: All smiles and singing, now, with the group to herself.

All: Dear [FYO]. Happy birthday to you!

Grandma: WOO WOO WOO WOO WOO!

BioMom: Can you blow 'em out?

FYO, collecting herself and preparing to blow: Blows, but none go out.

Grandma: Harder!

BioMom: HARDER!

FYO: Blows again, but this time only 4/5 go out.

Grandma: Whoa! ONE MORE!

Sexism: Swedish Style?

Or is it just Aksel Hatfield v. Bjorn McCoy?

Check out this article from a student.

OSLO (March 10) Swedish home furnishings giant IKEA is guilty of sex discrimination by showing only men putting together furniture in its instruction manuals, Norway's prime minister says.


IKEA's response? They're trying not to offend Muslim women.


BioMom and I could have recently been found putting together several IKEA items purchased for a cheap office makover. What we noticed about the manual was not that the non-lingual eunuch character was non-female, but his uncanny ability to communicate through a wide variety of clear expressions!

Esperanto. Swedish-style.

OUCH!

He/she seems to say as the bookshelf, not properly placed on a flat surface, topples over onto him.

All smiles pointing to one regular and one phillips scredriver means:

I'm so happy I have all the right tools needed for this job!

And a squiggle mouth while looking at the directions coupled with a question mark bubble leads the eunuch to a phone connected directly to IKEA for help!

BioMom and I imagined this call.

Um hi. We're having trouble putting together our EFFEKTIV cabinet.

What?

Our EFFEKTIV cabinet. We need some help putting it together. Maybe there are some pieces missing?

Let me transfer you to the exchange department. CLICK!

Swedish music in background.

Woman with Indian accent: Exchanges!

Hi. Um. We're having trouble putting together our EFFECKTIV cupboard.

Do you have your receipt?

No. We don't want to exchange the item. We just want to put it together. We think we've stripped the screws.

Woman to a co-worker: We've got another perve on the line! CLICK!

Redial.

Hello, Welcome to IKEA!

Hi. I just got cut off and am calling to get help putting together one of your furniture items.

Which item?

The EFFEKTIVE cabinet.

We don't stock that anymore.

But I just bought it last week.

I'm sorry, we can't help you. CLICK!

In any case, sexism was not our problem.

Disproportionate Karmic Justice?

It's midterm time!

Yeah, O.k., I'm that mean professor that gives a big exam on the day before Spring Break.

Its not that I'm trying to be particularly malicious, its just that its week 7, the middle of the term, and if I had given them the exam last week well, what would we even do this week?

Anyway, I can't stand the mundanity of policing cheaters. They're adults. And, hell, what can I do if they cheat anyway? My english professor friend at George Mason got into this huge lawsuit because she caught someone cheating, reported it, and then it turned into this huge he said/she said bullshit that I'm just not up for.

So my strategy is this:

At the start of an exam I announce that its their choice, but that cheating will invoke huge karmic reverberations. Not an eye-for-an-eye sort of reverberation but a DISPROPORTIONATE reverberation that will make the simple life they know now into a living hell.

What's the karmic justice?

If they cheat on this exam, then I predict that their current or future partners will cheat on them!

They all react loudly to this in horror:

WHA??????

Okay, okay I say. Maybe that won't happen. Maybe you'll cheat and then later just trip on a curb or something. But, you NEVER KNOW.

One student, earlier today, in resonse to this asked if I'd feel guilty if anyone of them got into a car accident over spring break.

At least I'd know who was cheating!

In any case, drive carefully please.

The Mother Drive-By

Via Dooce and Making Light I was lead to Chez Miscarriage's discussion of The Mother Drive-By:

As I read through your voluminous tomes, my eyes riveted to the screen, I began to notice a pattern. A theme, if you will. A leitmotif, which was this: apparently, other mothers frequently say crappy things to you about your mothering. (Chez Miscarriage, Feb 20, 2005).

According to Making Light, Chez Miscarriage had recieved "127 comments plus hundreds of e-mails" on just her initial post.

Are there any of my readers who have experienced the Mother Drive-By? Do lesbian mothers experience unique Mother Drive-By's?

BioMom and I get Mother Drive-By's from fellow lesbian parents regularly. Recently BioMom was taking the FYO to a skating party. I was out of town and the only one who knew the location of the skates so, after tearing the house apart, they decided to go anyway (to the FYO's utter chagrin). The get to the park and fellow lesbian parent shrieks:

You don't have skates for that girl?

As if we would somehow be abusive parents because we have not yet acquainted her to the merits of skating thereby ruining all possibilities for an olympic gold.

An Email Interaction With A Student

O.k. so out of generosity, I offer to review student papers prior to the deadline. Until this semester, only one or two students would take me up on the offer. This semester, however, I've got an arse-load of students who are taking advantage of it, and one, particularly bad writer is attempting to get me to look at more than one draft.

Here is a recent email interaction with him in chronological order:

Email 1: I followed your instructions, and I think that this paper is HUGE LEAPS, ahead of my last paper. I hope that you have time to look over this!! Thanks again!!

Portion of my response: *note that there is a difference between "there" and "their" you absolutely have to have this figured out before you move on into the world.

Email 2: We cleaned up the littlest grammatical errors, and we still cant find out where you see that I don't get the THEIR and THERE....I know what they mean, and we looked all night to find the ones that you were talking about, and maybe we just couldn't see them, but we even did the search text to find all of the THEIR and THEREs. So if you know where these are please point them out!! I hope that with all the cutting and pasting that you think that is at least going in a better direction the one I sent you the other day. I REALLY hope that you have the time to look at this copy for me. I really need to know if this is getting better, and I thank you because with work and class I have no other way to get a professionals opinion.....

My second response: Here is at least one sentence, that took me all of 30 seconds to find that uses the word wrong:

"I wanted to eliminate the females that worked much less then there counterparts, and made under $10,000, just to see what this total might look at."

Email 3: Otherwise was the paper getting better though??


AAAAARRRRGGGGHHHHH!

A New Protagonist!

Introducing the FYO!*

Happy Birthday FYO!


*(F=5)

Excitement!

We just booked a ticket for Cousin and her #2 to come and visit over Easter!!!