two things that you should see.

1) you already know how much i love HollaBack. the HollaBack phenomenon has spread all over the country, and city-specific sites (the flagship site is NYC-based) have popped up all over the country. apparently, the HollaBack DC site went dormant awhile back, but thankfully, someone stepped into the breach and started Don't Be Silent, where DC residents can speak out about street harassment in the city.

the more venues that women have to speak up about this interminably rampant issue, the better. so thanks to Golden Silence for seeing a gap, and working to fill it. please check out the site, give it some traffic, help it get off the ground.

2) ok, have you all been watching the Planet Earth series on the discovery channel? because if you haven't, you should start. like right now. fire up the TiVo and get to recording, because this is fricking amazing television. i remember being blown away by the commercials alone when they started airing a few weeks back - i also remember cursing the fact that i don't have a high-def tv. and it takes a lot to make me curse the fact that i haven't spent half a month's rent on a 17-inch television set!

since then, i've seen about two and a half episodes (there are 11 in all, and the whole series was five years in the making), and it has already sent me through the entire gamut of emotions. i have laughed out loud (baboons! tiptoeing through a flooded delta like dainty little primate divas!), i have gasped out loud (a 40 second slow motion shot of a great white leaping out of the ocean and snatching a seal in its gargantuan jaws), and - despite my valiant efforts to steel myself - cried more than a few tears (a baby elephant that was separated from its mother during a migration, thirsty and exhausted, accidentally following the mother's tracks in the wrong direction and towards certain death). the images and aesthetics alone are truly awesome, in the traditional sense, and the editing and narration keep it engaging. i cannot recommend this stuff highly enough. so you should watch it. really.

the stuff of nightmares. truly.

this is a lunatic week, peeps. lunatic. an ongoing (and still maddeningly unnamed) stressor, a big work event yesterday (13 hour workdays! are great!), the beginnings of a freelance project, plus the basics of oh, feeding and cleaning myself without having a nervous breakdown have resulted in a light week of blogging.

(i kinda hate talking about blogging on the blog? you know? it's kinda lame, in a too-pomo, overly self-referential way. yes, it is.)

i wish i had the etymology of "lunatic" easily accessible right now. because it has something to do with the moon, obviously. but now, after writing the word a few minutes ago, i really want to know the details.

can i tell you about the search term that showed up in my stat counter yesterday? ok, good, because it's extra horrifying. i checked my visitor stats and found the following phrase that directed someone to my blog:

pantyhose and crocs.

what? what?? i have so many questions. for one, do you mean wearing pantyhose and crocs simultaneously? i kinda have to assume that you must mean that, given the "and" in your search terms. this leads to directly to another question, which is why, in the name of all that is reasonable and just, would you even think about combining these two phenomenon? pantyhose are bad enough. crocs are bad enough. but together?? that reaches a level of fashion abomination that defies language.

as i was pondering this repugnant lower-body combination on the train ride home today (what can i say, i am a masochist), i played a mini-version of the "would you rather?" game with myself. the question was, "would you rather wear open-toed sandals with pantyhose, or wear crocs with pantyhose?" and really, after about five minutes of pondering this, i realized it was like a bizarro sophie's choice. i truly cannot say what i would do, because the idea of having to choose between those options is just too horrible for the rational brain to bear.

wow, look at that, i got on an actual topic for a whole three paragraphs there. it was crocs, but regardless. i'm impressed.

slow news day.

or slow kate brain. one of those, at least.

does anyone else hate those cingular commercials with the smug guy and the amazingly idiotic guy? they went away for awhile, and i was pleased, and now they're back, and i'm not.

and really, isn't AT&T phasing out the little orange cingular guy and subsuming it into the lined globe thingee? why would you revive an ad campaign solely associated with the cingular brand when you're trying to get rid of the cingular brand?

the brain, it hurts. slowly.

get out the fainting couch - no, for real this time.

if "feminine issues" trouble you on some fundamental level, i would avoid this post.* because while i'm not going to overly TMI you, if i don't vent about this right now i'm not sure what i will do. probably take out my frustration on some unassuming piece of small furniture or kitchenware. and that wouldn't be fair to those household goods, which have done nothing but be utilitarian. (and not in the philosophical sense.)

ANYWAY. i am rambling, i think, because i don't have enough blood to my brain. i'm lacking such stuff of life because my reproductive system has apparently commissioned all the blood in my body, and is currently expelling it. people, i have been bleeding for a month.

ahhhhhhhhhhhhh.

the background: you know, i'm on the seasonale. before this month, i would've sung the praises of seasonale to anyone who would listen. i loved seasonale. i worshipped seasonale. four periods a year, how great is that?? i recently read other women complaining about breakthrough bleeding on seasonale, and i thought, "well, lucky me, i've never once had a problem with that in the last two years!"

apparently, karma took that as its cue to slap me upside the head and kick me in the shins. and by "shins" i mean "uterus."

as an unfortunate health care system by-product, i had to take a month off of seasonale back in december, because i was switching over from my old job's health plan to my new one, which of course didn't kick in for 30 days after i started. which was over a week after i was supposed to have started a new pack of pills. so after some consultations with people who know about this shit, they said "yeah, just take the full month off, then start the new pack after your period is over." cool. (and just fyi, i don't doubt that this was the right thing to do. i just never considered that the issue that arise for women just starting seasonale could rear their ugly heads for me now, too.)

so, the first two months of my new pack passed in relative equilibrium. then, at the beginning of my third month, i realized that one night i had forgotten to take my pill. oops - it happens. i just take two in one day, and it's fine. except this time, apparently, it wasn't fine, and my body took the one day off of its regular hormone regimen to break the uterine lining dam. and i have been bleeding, in intensities ranging from breakthrough to full-on period, for a month. a month!!! i have had two full strength periods in 28 days, and have also been bleeding enough to be a slave to the tampax box for the other 14 days.

last night, i took my last placebo pill. i am desperately hoping that the next round of hormones can regulate this menstruation free for all. because this has got. to. stop. i've had a low-level, recurring headache for the last two weeks, and GI system is not thrilled with the situation either. and if this lasts much longer, i don't think i'll have enough energy to like, stand upright.

(and yes, i'm taking my multivitamins. but are there any iron-rich vegetables that i should be eating? gypsy spells i should be incanting? proverbial rain-dances i should be doing? come to think of it, i should've asked you all for some good woman-related advice here much earlier - i blame the lack of blood to my brain, um, or something...)



*by the way, if this is the case, i highly recommend getting over it. the whole "fear and disgust" thing when it comes to women and menstruation is a tired routine. we're women, we bleed, deal with it.

friday cat blogging, the "i'm ready for my close up, mr. demille" edition.

i'm sorry. i realize as i post this that it's actually kinda frightening.


even with the in-focus rug for a bit of perspective, she still sort of seems like the Stay-Puft marshmellow man of cats, doesn't she? like her eyeball is actually the size of my hand.

in reality, it is not. just in case you were worried.

customs and culture - snug as a bug in a rug.

so during my Contrarian™ kick last month, i said that i was going to post about the marriage as ritual, and i never did. my delinquency is deeply regrettable. but i read something yesterday that reminded me of the topic, and thought i’d share it with you all and see what you thought.

the impetus for this little musing was an interview with kamy wicoff, author of i do but i don’t: walking down the aisle without losing your mind. i highly, highly, highly recommend that you read the whole thing, because the woman is just firing on all cylinders here. as i was explaining it to BoyCat on the metro ride home last night, ‘it’s like, she takes all these ideas and qualms and confusing contradictions that normally make me go ‘but...um...uh... you know...it’s like ...um...ahhhhh?’ and just nails them.”

so, anyway, it’s good. but this particular part really struck me:

One of the things I came to see is that there's a reason why society, at these watershed moments, steps in with a program. On the one hand it's because people want it and need it and ask for it and on the other hand it's because it's the ideal time to impose a set of values on people.

Society always steps in when people feel insecure or under pressure and says: "This is how you do it. This is who you are. This is what we expect you to be." I felt [during my engagement] I needed that guidance and support and I was willing to take it under any conditions. I was unable to say: "Do I believe this?"

This makes social progress hard. It is asking the individual to take on a real revolt alone and that's very difficult. One of the things that my generation struggles with is tearing down old rules without coming up with a new system of traditions and rituals that really describes our experience.

this is what i was talking about in the comment thread where i noted that rituals are a two way street: they provide people with a sense of security, comfort, understanding and belonging, but they also exact a price for that comfort in return. as twisty noted recently, “customs are the currency of culture: the more you absorb, the greater the rewards.” (that post, by the way? also fantastic. also worth reading. like right now.) i think it’s entirely fair – nay, entirely necessary – to try to understand the full weight of the cultural transactions in which you take part. i say this not just to be a cynical sourpuss, but in the hope that big life decisions can start to be based less in glorified peer pressure and fear of non-conformity, and more in a confidence that whatever we are giving up is worth what we are gaining.

hey, that doesn’t seem so contrarian at all, does it?

thoughts (on this, or any aspect of the wicoff interview, because seriously people, it is good stuff) most welcome.

play it again sam.

i am recommencing my minor freak-out from late last month. i will tell you more about it in a week or so, if i can.

or i might have to never mention it again. it really depends.

sorry, i know it's (and by "it's" i mean "i'm") annoying. but just wanted to shed a thin bit of light on what will probably be my scattered and illogical contributions to this blog in the very near future...

god, i'll probably have an ulcer by 30.

oof.

i worked today. then i ran today. 3.5 miles. now i am tired. very tired.

so, while i go do some editing work write a short story clean the kitchen sleep, check out this picture that MomCat took up in maine over the weekend. it is quite maine-esqe, if i do say so myself. and by "maine-esqe," i mean obviously motherfrigging cold. cold and rocky and generally inhospitable for nine months of the year, but yet somehow still wonderful.



holy christ, i am really tired. goodnight.

you can get anything at trader joe's.

seriously!

look, i just bought some spring for only $1.29.





is there any living thing in the world more cheerful than a daffodil? no, i do not think so.

how to go from a normal woman to a raving lunatic who runs in front of traffic - in thirteen easy steps!

1) schedule an appointment to have your taxes done at 7:00 pm. assume that this will give you plenty of time to get home, as you usually get home around 6:15 on a normal night. disregard murphy's law here.

2) thoughtfully bring home two pieces of cheesecake from the office for your boyfriend. because there is no tupperware lying around your cubicle, fashion a contraption to hold the cheesecake out of a bunch of sandwich bags and small cardboard box. small, but not small enough to fit in your bag, thus necessitating hand-carrying all the way home.

3) make sure it is pouring rain when you leave work.

4) arrive at the metro station to a platform jam-packed with people, and wait ten minutes to squeeze your way onto a crowded blue line train. sandwich yourself uncomfortably in the middle of the car, with your bag on one shoulder and your umbrella and the cake in your other hand. hold onto the overhead bar that you can barely reach, and silently curse the effect of water plus wool on nasal passages.

5) get verbally berated, along with all other passengers, by the train conductor about "not leaning on the doors!!!!" at the next three stops, and listen to the mechanized metro lady say "doors closing..." half a dozen times at each stop before they actually, genuinely do.

6) ensure that the problem with the doors is not actually too many people on the train, but something much more inscrutable and thus unable to easily fix. stand in the train car, still holding your bag, umbrella, and cake, for 20 minutes while waiting for problem to be resolved. have "problem being resolved" equal the conductor getting on the PA and saying "this train is being offloaded at this station. everyone, off the train."

7) wait in the midst of a wet, wooly crush of humanity at said station while your broken train pulls away. don't even attempt to get on the first train, for fear of being stampeded. squeeze onto second one, and maintain tenuous grip on all three of your belongings while doing so. actually say, out loud, "would you all just settle down?" as you are shoved through the doors. resume your position barely grasping overhead handle in new car.

8) finally arrive at your stop at 6:20, thinking "great, as long as i don't have to wait much longer than ten minutes for the shuttle bus, i'll be ok." hoof it down the stairs and through the turnstile, wrestling your hat on and your umbrella open as you navigate through the crowd to the parking lot. see a shuttle pulling away.

9) decide to start abiding by murphy's law, and thus conclude that the shuttle on the way out of the lot must be yours. start walking briskly up the sidewalk towards the cross-street where it looks like the shuttle will be stopped at a red light.

10) have the wind blow your umbrella inside out.

11) realize that it really might be your shuttle. start jogging. simultaneously try to right your umbrella by shaking it violently and peer at the shuttle in an attempt to recognize whether it's frank, the driver, in the front seat. arrive at intersection just as the other street's light is turning yellow, and at that moment confirm it is definitely your shuttle.

12) disregard major intersection status of your location and the changing traffic lights, and charge across four lanes of traffic with your umbrella flailing about and your bag falling off your shoulder. miraculously, maintain firm grip on cake. watch light turn green while you are halfway across. leap onto the opened shuttle door just as the cars behind you start to honk furiously.

13) collapse into a seat, and when frank the shuttle driver asks, "are you ok?," just laugh.

the good, the bad, and the ugly.

the good: VCU just beat Duke in the last three seconds of the game. sweetness.

the bad: i just realized, with my tax appointment at H&R Block tomorrow, that Mutual of America never sent me the form for my Roth IRA deductions. that was a few hundred dollars that i probably won't be able to deduct. suckiness.

the ugly: i dunno, i just wanted to reference a spaghetti western. pasta-ness.

your wednesday one-liner.

from Overheard in New York, an example of those public transit conductors telling the god's honest truth (when they're not lying through their teeth, that is):

Conductor: This is 116th Street, Columbia University. Good luck paying your tuition.

--116th St

ok, so you're not into the sports.

thank you all for that outpouring of march madness advice and counsel. those zero comments responding to my plea for bracket help were incredibly useful as i sat in my cubicle this morning, frantically clicking back and forth between different espn.com screens and scribbling nonsense on my Fox Sports print out. i cursed you all and your lack of ncaa engagement as i fretted away my morning on seedings and dark horses and top-heavy final fours.

i was actually thinking about my brackets last night as i was falling asleep. i am a sick person.

anyway, despite my readership's distinct lack of ncaa enthusiasm, i did manage to actually make some decisions. i am in two pools, and i have UCLA winning it all in both of them. in one i have them beating Georgetown in the final, and in the other they best Ohio State for the title. i have BC going to the Elite Eight in toast's pool - even i, alumni superfan, could not bring myself to burn $10 by predicting the Eagles to win it all.

i have #12 Old Dominion over #5 Butler as my upset. this is apparently a fashionable upset pick, but so be it. i also have #11 Winthrop over #6 Notre Dame because hey, fuck Notre Dame, and #11 VCU over #6 Duke because you know, fuck Duke.

now, i will sit back and hope against hope that i'll make some of my money back....

remember that time?

when i said i'd be back to regularly scheduled blogging soon?

that was a total lie.

i am currently anticipating the ring of my cell phone, which will be BoyCat calling to request a pick-up at the Metro. this is really the least that i can do, considering the inclement weather odyssey on which he went to bring me to the airport last week. then after we get back, i need to make some dinner, which i haven't done because you know, murphy's law - BoyCat would have called the minute i put the rice in the boiling water. so i still gots to eat.

and then, after sustenance comes secondary income - a small editing job that should get done tonight. and then, hopefully some additional income on top of that - filling out my brackets. my brackets! they are giving me fits!! people, i do not know what to do. i'm halfway through my "serious" bracket (the one that goes in the bigger money pool at the office, and does not, under any circumstances, have Boston College winning it all), and i am stuck. i have too many one and two seeds going deep; i'm sending two second seeds and one top seed to the final four already, and i want to put in a lower seed as my fourth pick, but the region i have left is the East, and it's hard to bet against either UNC or Georgetown coming out of there, and.......

*freaks out*

i need help. i have until 5:00 pm tomorrow to get these picks in, and then i can tweak them for my "BC National Championship, Otherwise Known as Insanity" bracket for toast's pool. but in serious, serious, seriously seriousness - who do you like?



EDIT: this has nothing to do with anything, but is it me, or is blogger's timestamp all wickity-wack? this post is stamped 6:57 pm, but my laptop's clock says 8:12 pm. wha?? that's not even just an hour off, that's plain old messed up. i checked my settings, and it's on EST. weirdness.

"resistance is futile."

so say my allergies to my face. almost five days of radio silence over here, and i'm all ready to get back to blogging, and then the minute my plane touches down at dulles all parts of my head go into open revolt.

so, given that i've been on the move since 6:00 am this morning, and that my nose currently resembles a faucet more than a body part, i'm checking in just to check out. back to regularly scheduled programming tomorrow, i'm sure.

(and by the way, border cafe? still delicious. i love that place. and boston? still beautiful, especially when see from an airplane window. i love that town. and the Cat family? still hilarious and wonderful. i love those peeps.)

the drag on the line.

tomorrow, after work, i will be making my way to the airport and flying to boston. (well, by making my way, i mean BoyCat will be driving me, because he is a huge sweetheart and does things like drive me to the airport in beltway rush hour traffic.)

i am kind of freaking out (no! me, freaking out?) about the potential bad-ish weather predicted for tomorrow. BoyCat and my entire family are sick of hearing about this from me, so i have to assume that the internets are going to be just as disinterested in my snow-related hand wringing. i shall spare you. suffice to say, i am bringing a big novel, money for the airport bar, and my xanax, and then hoping for the best.

i'm really glad to be going home for a few days - i think all the members of the Cat family need a bit of a break right now. so we'll hibernate, watch tv, drink wine from a box, and generally try to recuperate from life. it sounds overly dramatic, but don't you sometimes feel like you need to recuperate from the effort of existing, from the drag on the line that accompanies every day, from the sadness and exhaustion that can come from the little depressing moments that you witness everywhere? today, on the way home from work, i looked at a middle-aged man's face as he waited for the train car doors to open, and i nearly cried. his wool hat sat crooked on his head, his hands buried in the pockets of his coat, deep lines on his face and no trace of emotion in his eyes. he was tired. i was tired. we are all so, so tired.

perhaps a post or two from me over the weekend, but perhaps not. either way, you all take care of yourselves over these next few days too.

and he named him judas? really??

we are totally watching that jesus show tonight. if it smacks of blasphemy, you know BoyCat and i are there.

apparently there is also a follow-up special, hosted by ted koppel, called a critical look airing right after the show. this, i think, raises the pertinent question: is there nothing critical in the two-hour investigation that comes before it? given that the filmmakers are implying that they may have found the tomb of "the artist previously known as ascended" jesus, and that this tomb bears evidence of a bloodline, i would like to think that they would attempt to address potential criticism of such allegations within their 120 minute presentation!

but then again, it is james cameron, so you never know.

(awww, that's not fair. sorry james. i'm one of the few people who will nowadays actually admit to liking titanic, for whatever that's worth. and kudos to you for lobbing some hand grenades at christianity, as fluff-filled and profit-driven as they may be.)

wrapped in plastic.

it has been years. literally, years. we have scoured the internet for signs, gossip, any kind of information whatsoever. we hung on every potential new development, sighed with disappointment with every seemingly promising development that turned out to be a bust. and we had recently, to be honest, started to give up hope.

then, around the end of 2006, things seemed to pick up speed. i was convinced it was going to happen. BoyCat was convinced we would merely be disappointed again. about a month or so ago, we argued vociferously about it in a Georgia Ave. kitchen around 12:30 am, while other partygoers looked on in bemusement. "it will!," i insisted. "it won't!," he retorted. "just wait and see, " i said, "it's gonna happen."

and i was right.

on april 3, 2007, the second season of Twin Peaks will finally be released on DVD in the US. for twin peaks fans, this is monumental. we thought this day would really never come, given a falling out between series creator david lynch and writer/executive producer mark frost in the wake of the first season's transition to DVD. so, while we had the first eight episodes on DVD, the final 22 were still relegated to poor quality VHS - and really, does anyone even have a VCR anymore? so years and years passed, and while talk and rumor would emerge every now again again about some progress on the DVD front, it started to seem like a lost cause.

however, in 2005 the rights to the show went to Paramount, and in 2006 word that Lynch was working on the transfers for the second season started to actually seem credible. by the end of 2006, news of the season's release in europe started popping up, prompting my assertions that the definitive arrival of the DVDs here in the US by 2007. and as i noted my correctness above already, i won't do it again. oh wait, i just did.

anyway, i just pre-ordered our box set on amazon.com this morning; i am not exaggerating by saying it kinda made me giddy. BoyCat has some friends and co-workers who have never seen the show and want to do some Twin Peaks marathon viewings (which truly, having been introduced to the show in that way back in 2002, is the only way to see it) soon. now that we have an estimated ship date for season two, we can set a date to start watching season one!

i realize, as i type this, how bizarre this must sound to some people (ok, most people). sorry about that. but my devotee-level love of this show has just driven me to write a whole post about getting to watch it...again. i am subjecting you all to some strange and annoying stuff lately, aren't i?

i'll get back to patriarchy blaming and college basketball soon enough, i promise. but for now, i'm too excited to find out "who killed laura palmer?" all over again to care about all that...

friday cat blogging, the "stuff juvenile comedy is made of" edition.

ok. this is totally gross, but when it happened earlier, BoyCat said, “you’ve got to friday cat blog this!” honestly, i couldn’t disagree. so here it is.



this is a blurry picture of CatCat, actively hanging her head in shame, about ten minutes after she pooped on the carpet.

what?? yes. she did.

and don’t go all humane society on me – she didn’t actually take an active poo on the carpet, which would obviously be indicative of something being wrong. no, she was on her way out of the bathroom (evidently after using the facilities, as that’s the only reason she ever goes in there – that and to hide from the vacuum cleaner), walking through the bedroom, and all of a sudden i hear BoyCat say, “awww, CatCat!”, and she gallops away under the dining room table. i crane my head around the bedroom door frame and see the offense – a single piece of kitty poop on the carpet.

ewwww! CatCat!

apparently she needs a refresher course in “making sure you’re finished before you leave the lavatory.” poor thing. she stayed under the table and licked her butt for ages. i think that’s penance enough, right? well, plus this little bit of internet humiliation.

but it could be worse! BoyCat said he wished i had taken a picture of the poo for this post. now even i, delighter in embarrassing anecdotes preferably with photo evidence, found this sentiment to be over the line of acceptable feline mortification. and i’m sure you’re all better off for it.

linkfarm.

there all these things that i want to share with you! interesting stuff abounds! check it:

1) amanda's recent post, Smile: It's easier than bowing, made me want to clap wildly in my cubicle yesterday. she was responding to an article "about how smiling indicates more than pleasure, but is actually linked with social status, and that the lower down the ladder you are, the more you tend to smile." she connects these researched findings to gender as well, in particular to that maddening habit that random men on the street have - you know, where they tell women they've never before seen in their life to "smile, honey!" the original article bears out her conclusion:

research show[s] that women smile more than men...this gender difference has been attributed to the perceived lower social status of women, and [a professor involved in the research] notes that this gender gap shrinks when you control for social status: high-status women apparently don’t feel the need to smile as much.

overall, some fascinating stuff, and satisfying to so many women who already knew, instinctively and from experience, that this was the case. amanda says at the end of the post,

In recent years, I’ve discovered that if I stifle the urge to smile all the time at people, I get more respect...over time, I’ve sort of fallen out of the habit [of smiling often] because the need to be taken seriously overrules the need to have people like me so much of the time.

amen! yes! women everywhere: smile less, demand more.

2) a post that got me thinking today was a recent musing from hugo about marriage, money, joint accounts and feminism. obviously, given my marriage ramblings of last month, the topic caught my attention. in this one, hugo responds to a few other posts involving money and marriage, and uses personal anecdote (as he does so often, and so well!) to examine the issue of the role of finances in a marriage. in his marriage (and his three previous ones - hugo's an interesting guy), finances are completely blended, and he ultimately argues for the value in that. his comment thread has some good contrasting viewpoints, as well as some relevant identifications of how class-based privilege could be factoring into his argument.

i don't have much else to say about it now, other than that for me, the discussion also raised (or re-framed) some serious questions about what marriage is about, and the different ways in which one could (should? would? how now brown cow!) conceptualize the institution.

3) my AdRants Daily email alerted me to this new campaign, Buy Less Crap, which is in response to the Bono and Oprah endorsed (RED) consumer-friendly charity campaign. my first unmitigated response was "thank you, thank you, thank you." as someone who toils away raising money for causes as a professional livelihood, the recent boom in cause marketing and consumer-driven (and consumer-connected) philanthropy makes me uneasy. i mean, no more than 17% of they money you spend on your (RED) motorola phone actually goes to charity - 83% goes in motorola's pocket. so Buy Less Crap cuts out the middle corporate man, and provides direct links to donate to the charities (RED) supports. brilliant!

the only thing that tempered my happiness with this initiative is the reason it was in AdRants in the first place - its ad campaign. the print ad featured in the AdRants email was a naked woman (sigh), cleverly concealing herself with her own arms (double sigh), with the word "(RED)ICU(LESS)" stamped over her. i thought, god damn it, you nice liberal causes with good progressive intentions! can you please try to achieve your aims without exploiting a woman's body, just once??

but then again, when you go to their site, two of the three posted print ads are naked guys. so while overall, i am certainly tired of the "naked people, ooooh, shocking!" marketing motif that many liberal/left-ish companies and organizations continue to buy into, at least it seems like Buy Less Crap is being somewhat egalitarian about their attempts at mass market titillation.

4) there is no number four. i kinda can't believe how long it took me to just write those three. when the portion of your brain that houses things like "thesaurus" and "sentence structure" starts shutting down by 8:30 pm, you know you're getting old.