Okay, Sarah

I am saddened :(

How is my candidate going to campaign if his show is stuck in reruns? Stephen, come back to me!!

I saw the picketers at Fox this morning driving to work. I honked at them to show support (not because I'm a bleeding heart, but because I understand that, objectively speaking, as a group they are a million times better than the crappy scabs they'll get to write replacement shows, which will inevitably suck). I hope they reach an agreement before they cancel the next season of Lost due to lack of scripts!!! I plan to boycott "reality" "television."

Disappointing

Last night I had dinner in Santa Monica with a friend. We were seated at a bar with empty chairs next to us and at one point during our get-together a thirty-something guy sat down near us and struck up a conversation. We chatted with him for a bit before I made the mistake of using the word "exploit" in a sentence and he pounced: "Are you a feminist?" Unfazed and unashamed, I smiled and answered that I was (my friend does not consider herself a feminist because "feminists think all women should have to work." Sigh). Then came the typical thinly veiled hostility, the ungentlemanly remarks about my and my friend's bodies (superficially complimentary, but completely rude and obviously meant to antagonize), the totally inappropriate topics of conversation. Etc., etc. Pretty much the same thing that happens every time I talk to a guy who comes to realize I'm not a typical pretty ditzy LA girl, but I actually have a brain and not only do I know how to use it, I will use it to run circles around them if they can't keep up. I found the conversation somewhat entertaining, because usually these guys end up digging their own holes. By the end of dinner, he was suggesting that my friend and I come to his place for a wine tasting, noting how "romantic" his place was. Riiiiight. Thanks but no thanks, buddy.

Anyway, we left and I was still giggling at the absurdity of the conversation. My friend was laughing a bit too, but she was decidedly more shocked than I was. As we drove away from the restaurant, she talked about how unbelievable this guy was, how he had seemed cool and normal at first but he had acted completely rude, etc., and she'd never seen a guy act so badly in so many different ways before. I shrugged -- it actually seemed to me like a fairly typical conversation with a random barfly who wasn't worth our time. I mean, this is why I almost never date -- they're virtually all like this*, so what's the point?

And then it hit me. I always figured guys responded a little bit differently to me because I'm smart and outspoken, etc. But my friend is smart too, and she's no wallflower, and yet this guy's behavior surprised her. The realization dawned on me that men treat me disrespectfully because I have the audacity to insist on equality. To these neanderthals, I'm not an equal they can have a beer with and shoot the shit with and complain about their jobs with. I'm a little girl insisting that she be allowed to drive Daddy's car. And when they realize I won't back down from my unreasonable demands, they get nasty. It's like they're challenging me, competing with me, trying to beat me for the sake of putting me in my place. Showing me that I'm different from them and therefore not equal. (To be clear, I'm not suggesting this is their conscious intent, since I don't think most of them are smart enough to consciously intend it.)

I never realized how very different I was treated from other, non-uppity women, until a non-uppity woman witnessed the rudeness with which I'm consistently greeted by men and expressed how unusual it seemed to her.

Man, talk about paradigm-shifting.

* There are, of course, exceptions. Like my boyfriend Andy Samberg.

A wine-lover's worst nightmare

I have lost my sense of smell.

I don't think it's permanent. I certainly hope it isn't. I'm on the tail end of probably the worst case of allergies I've ever had. Yesterday I noticed I couldn't smell anything. I mean ANYTHING. I sprayed on some perfume before going out and realized that I couldn't smell it. I couldn't figure out if it was the way I wanted to smell that day. I held the bottle to my nose, held my wrist to my nose. Nothing. I was driving past a McDonald's with a friend. "Man," he noted wistfully, "that smells REALLY good." I grimaced. "I can't smell a damn thing."

At church this morning, I think I could slightly, SLIGHTLY detect the scent of the incense. This must be a good sign. But even so -- this is pretty damned terrifying. I've spent the day experimenting with different smells. I even opened the dumpster outside my apartment and took a good long whiff. Jackshit nothing. Coffee? What a joke. Tequila? I wish. Mint? Nope. I can't even smell PEPPERMINT OIL. Not vinegar. Not Tabasco. At this point I'm simply hoping against hope that none of my food is spoiled, because if it is, I won't know until I get the joy of spending my night vomiting.

Dad has "prescribed" Claritin and a sinus rinse, which is about as enjoyable as it sounds. It involves squirting solution into one nostril and allowing it to come out through the other -- or in the case of one of my nostrils, which is apparently particularly stuffed up, out through the mouth. Yum!

Being the Type A obsessive anxiety-prone individual I am, I've scoured the internet for resources indicating what the hell is going on with my body and why. Since this appears to be triggered by allergies, there's a good chance it will simply clear up on its own in a few days. Other possibilities: permanent neurological damage of unknown causes, or cancer. And I won't know until this clears up, or I get a CAT scan.

Allergy shots are sounding more appealing by the second.

Because THAT'S what we need

McDonald's has a new burger: the Third Pounder.

That's right. Their genius execucrats decided that too many people were starting to get healthy, dieting and exercising, and lowering their cholesterol, so they've unleashed obesity's latest weapon in the War On Humanity. The 740-calorie Double Quarter Pounder with Cheese apparently wasn't sufficiently artery-clogging.

This kinda makes me wanna run home and play DDR to flush the fat-karma from my brain. And yet I've got this stuck in my head:

Cheyenne Elise, 1994-2007

The awesomest Sheltie who ever lived died at about 11:45 Mountain Time this morning.

Mom says she went very peacefully. She was in pain all week, so they decided last night that they would take her in this morning. Mom says the vet was very kind and soothing -- Cheyenne didn't seem afraid or in any pain after she got the tranquilizer. She got some treats after the tranquilizer shot and then the vet gave her the injection. She relaxed and closed her eyes, and then she was gone.

I've known for a few months that this was coming. So why does it: 1) feel completely unreal, and I have to keep reminding myself that she's dead, for good, forever, I'm never, ever seeing her again; and 2) hurt so fucking much I wish I could chop off a toe so I could think about something else instead? At this rate I'm going to have to wear sunglasses to work for a year.

I've never lost a "real" pet before (not saying hamsters and rabbits aren't real -- but that just doesn't sting the way that losing someone you grew up with does), so I didn't realize until now just how acutely this sucks. Holy fuck did I make a mistake getting another one of these things. I hope I get hit by a bus before Cujo dies. Because I never wanna feel this bad again.

I really hope dogs go to heaven, or that there's a doggie heaven, or something. Cheyenne deserves to get to run around and play and not be in any pain anymore. And I hope to God I get to see her again.

Rest in peace, my sweet puppy.

Sad news

Bernie Meltzer has died.

I never had a class with him, but from my limited encounters with him, I can say with authority that he was one of the nicest people at the Law School. No matter how gloomy a day you might be having, if you walked by him you couldn't help but smile. His incredible cheery attitude was infectious. Not content to merely project an aura of sunshine onto the Law School, he also kept himself in good shape at an age when most have long given up on their bodies. While we lazy law students opted for the library elevator to take us up three floors, Professor Meltzer always took the stairs. And sometimes he still managed to beat us. And, needless to say, he was an incredibly smart guy. Yet he was astonishingly humble, a quality even rarer in the law than in everyday life. I didn't know him very well, but the news of his passing makes me very sad.

Rest in peace, Professor Meltzer.

More Dog Drama

This time with my dog back home.

She's had kidney failure and some other problems the past few months, but antibiotics have been helping. Still, some of her tests were a little worrisome, so Mom took her in for an ultrasound this morning.

Turns out it's a cancerous tumor, and it's inoperable.

They're going to put her on medication that has a 40% chance of helping. If it helps, she might make it for another six months.

I kind of don't feel like working today. Or, you know, doing anything.