Requisite Band Girlfriend Post:

Listen to Tussin

Things I Never Thought I Would Utter:

“I miss retail!”

LOL QUE

An Open Complaint to [Institution Redacted]

Here is a letter that I submitted on some online form regarding the current financial crisis and [the Institution with which I am currently employed- an Institution that was fool enough to play chicken with its huge endowment, Might I Add].

Your question or concern (optional) It is wonderful to see the [Institution Redacted] campus coming together to implement such creative cost-effective measures. For example, my department has foregone the traditional holiday party and instead opted for a delicious potluck lunch. I do find it to be quite the irony, then, that last evening (Thursday, December 18th), I was exiting my office in [Building Redacted] when I encountered an elaborate set-up for a soiree given by and presumably paid for, by the [Institution Redacted] (though I did not see any fellow staff members in attendance).

Your cost-savings tip (optional) I propose that, perhaps instead of hovering over well-meaning Department heads with the threat of vast and looming budget cuts, the Dean and his associates opt out of planning private, extravagant, and arguably unnecessary events. If the [Institution Redacted] is really concerned with reassuring its staff in the wake of financial uncertainty, perhaps it is not the wisest PR move to rub the proverbial salt in the wound by flaunting excess.

Auto Bailout, Madoff, blah blah blarg. Not to get all Marxy on your white-collar asses, but we won’t stand for this much longer… or will we?

Per Fashionista’s statement, ‘We wonder who’ll models these clothes, based on a woman whose dress size is as famous as her face…’, I’m reminded of something that I have to get off my chest.

Yeah, Marilyn Monroe was a size 16.

But do you wear clothes from this era? I do, almost solely (that is: when I’m not dressed, on all other days, like a 13 year old boy). In vintage-wear, I wear a size 10 (I’m an X-tra Small IRL). See? See? CLOTHES EVOLVE TOO.

(Snopes addresses this too.)

I guess I’m just sick of people having to justify their [perfectly adequate] sizes by using a bombshell lady who probably didn’t even have a very healthy body image. Also, I need to stop reading Fashionista because (like everything else) it just makes my brain atrophy (I dare not mention this beyond pathetic post that they did). Chubies.

NO X NO I AM NOT ATTENDING NO

Somehow my high school found me and is pestering me with emails about my five year reunion. I vowed never to attend a non-family reunion unless I was Very Successful. Despite the fact that HWRHS’ Class of 2003 is actually the most compelling argument for eugenics that one could ever see and I am thus tenfold more successful than, oh, say 75% of these people [which is just... SAD], NO I AM NOT GOING.

DELETE.

DELETE.

DELETE.

DO NOT WANT.

There was also bitterness. “What language do they speak in Kenya? Maybe I should get a book,” said Ed Sellman of Falls Church. “I’d sure like to see his birth certificate.”

SUCK IT YOU RACIST BUTTFUCKS. WE WON AND YOU LOST AND I HOPE YOU HAD FUN GETTING YOUR WHITEY ASS KICKED
Sincerely,

White Girl who is SO SSOSOSOSOSOSO HAPPY THAT HER PRESIDENT IS BLACK!!!! <3 <3 <3

OBAMA!

Frankly, I’m ready for a president who canoodles with Khalidi. Isn’t it time?

Then again, y’all know my politics, and also probably about the framed Rabin/Arafat picture I grew up with in my parents’ home.

Shepard Fairey in my ‘hood!

Shepard Fairey 2, originally uploaded by Jasonwg.

Shepard Fairey was in Boston last week and did this piece right outside my house.

“Buzzkill”

Paul Collins’ piece in The Believer last month was one of the most delightful things I have read in awhile.

“Nasty little men like you always get their comeuppance.”

In these times of great economic uncertainty, aren’t you glad you weren’t a business major? I’m still poor but I feel a lot richer!

AND HEY GUYS, WHILE YOU’RE AT IT I HAVE SEVERAL THOUSAND DOLLARS IN STUDENT LOANS.

K?

…THNX.

hmmmm.

I just want to point out that though I complain about the recession with frequency, I just caught myself eating:

-Honey and Brie [St. Andre!!] on toast

-Stoned Wheat Crackers

-Green Olives stuffed with Bleu Cheese

Huh. How many indulgences can I use the excuse ‘Well, it’s because I quit smoking’ for?

Wolves Rising

I don’t really like to write about politics, I just like to think about them when I am feeling masochistic [AKA often] and I only like to talk about them whilst making Daily Show style jokes but since I often think of hypothetical situations [i.e. having a pet polar bear, making friends with little bunnies, having my own talk show, &c.] at random I had to share this one.

Say, hypothetically, a McCain-Palin ticket wins. Booing in the streets, etc. Maybe I start up smoking again? Or maybe a newer, more harmful habit? DUNNO. Anyway, they win. The usual neo-con disaster ensues, we miss Laura Bush, etc. About a month or two in, ZOMG, Nation in Mourning, John CROAKS! Cindy is free! Free as a bird! Free from “cunt”-calling oldies! But! We have a new president. Her name is Sarah Palin. How historic! A lady president! Sarah Palin! Mocker of Community Organizers!

Well, Ms. Palin, good luck organizing our COMMUNITY OF THE UNITED STATES!! You just KNOW that bad things come in threes, so: McCain Wins, McCain Croaks, TERROR STRIKES!! We are like soooo f-ed, right!?

Also, if this hypothetical situation should happen, I will wager a PROLETARIAN WOLF REVOLUTION. STORMING THE CAPITAL, HOWLING AT THE MOON. I hope the wolves remember that I am a friend to them. Can anyone outdoors-y offer up why people aerially shoot wolves anyway? Aren’t wolves known to be Friends of the Ecosystem, Integral to the Circle of Life?

Also did anyone catch OH MY EFFING GOD GG last night? Blair Waldorf is my favorite dressed person in all of television and is such a glorious superbitch who I relate to in a really disturbing way.

GoodReads Review: Portnoy’s Complaint

Portnoy’s Complaint by Philip Roth

My review

rating: 3 of 5 stars
I read this out of conviction for not having read enough of the Jewish Lit canon. Behrman reassured me that it was witty but misogynist. He was not wrong. Basically? Kid with ‘typical’ overbearing Jewish mother fucks shikses, doesn’t care about them, finally gets to fuck a real Israeli Jew and can’t keep it up. Oh, and he masturbates a lot too. I mean, he’s a great writer, and I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it and picture this epic neurotic speaking in monologue in my head, but maybe I should have gone for American Pastoral instead.

Well, at least Alex Portnoy likes eating girls out.

View all my reviews.

I know most of the bigwigs whom I know and love and read hate on Keith Gessen a lot but this piece helped further my current malaise. Or rather, maybe it means I have to hate on Keith Gessen too? Whatevs, I hate my life, LIFE’S HARD.

Canoodling with the Prince

So. Due to my Father’s endless gift/penchant for what we Arabs like to call wasta [yes, you can take this sentence to mean that, as Hall's proverbial de-centered subject, I- on occasion- self-identify as Arab], a cooler word for connections, he landed a job with the perks [and pitfalls?] of occasionally canoodling with Saudi royalty. Me? As an aspiring scholar of this particular “region” [<3 'Balkanization' !! ...thumbs down] my academic focus swerves towards those less privileged, particularly religious minority groups and refugee communities, namely in my hometown of Cairo, Egypt. On occasion, when I’m feeling particularly altruistic [towards myself] and unusually non-bitchy, I might even deign to call myself a class warrior [this term, of course, comes with an unusual amount of baggage for me, at once undigging undergrad angst and newly minted petit bourgeois guilt], so my interest in royalty tends to be enthused only by Said Royalty’s physical appeal [funny you should ask, yes Prince William is a hottie] and, more importantly, their clothing.

hoooooooah! I love it when people fictionalize early hominid history ["cavemen". hmm.] in order to try to make a case for masculinity. [All you have to watch are the last 20 seconds]

Sometimes I’m embarrassed to self-identify as hetero because of douchebags like this.

If m’boy Jürgen doesn’t win this, then there’s not really a point to the term “Public Intellectual”, now is there?

…Then again, it is Foreign Policy magazine. You wouldn’t be an FP reader if you liked Zizek, and weren’t a toolbag.

Centurion of the New World Order got pwned!

Would that I were that hero who PIED THOMAS FRIEDMAN IN THE FACE.

[Brown Daily Herald via IvyGate]

[Update: There's video- I almost feel bad for him, but as Alex says, it's okay to feel bad for Tom as long as I feel good about him being pied in the face too!]

Reason #3489 to adore Erykah Badu

How many people have you truly loved?
I’ve always wanted the best for everyone in my life. Except for one person: Bombita. She was in the fifth grade with me. She can die.
What?
She was mean. She used to step on my toes, anything to make me mad. I hope she’s a ghetto statistic. And if that keeps me out of Heaven, then so be it.

[OhNoTheyDidn't via Genny]

If I was famous I would make my shit-list public too. In fact, this is the only reason I find fame desirable at all!

Facebook’s Five Love Languages

Gary Chapman is famous because of his pop Psychology hit The Five Love Languages (Subtitle: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to Your Mate). For some reason this book is on my parents’ bookshelf, along with the Teen Version. Generally, we prefer to scream about Arab Nationalism or Marx or the semantics of the term ‘Tribal’ at the dinner table, so I don’t know why this is on their shelf [it's on the bottom shelf of the 'Applied Linguistics' section. Yes, we have an 'Applied Linguistics' section. And people wondered why, at age eight, I already wanted a PhD], though my mom is known on occasion to cite one of the Big Five as one of our love languages. [Mine is Touch. My brother Joel, who is known for being obnoxious and mooning people, is an Acts of Service guy. Stefanie, who is the most self-confident sixteen-year-old in existence, enjoys Words of Affirmation. Get my drift?]

Anyway, Chapman [who doesn't even have a Dr. prefix. Hmmm. Oh well, probably more legit than Dr. Laura... I hope.] posits that there are five Love Languages [no more, no less] and that each human has a preferred Language and that is how you and your mate can be compatible. By knowing and recognizing and catering to their love language of choice.

The Big Five?

• Words of Affirmation

• Quality Time

• Receiving Gifts

• Acts of Service

• Physical Touch

Yeah, yeah, so there’s maybe some kind of legitimacy, as in: I like it when my S.O. brings me coffee in the morning [Acts of Service!], and I like huggin’ and kissin’ [Physical Touch!], and yeah, it’s kind of nice when Gentleperson Caller tells me I’m Da Prettiest [Words of Affirmation!], but confining me to one Language? That just seems silly! Especially in Century 2.0- that is, Now. Shouldn’t the Five Love Languages be adapted to the cultural context that we’re in?

Thus, I present to you The Five Love Languages as translated by Facebook. Do Enjoy, and tell me what yours is so I’ll know how to treat you on the Popular Social Networking Site next time I am logged in.

If you’ve ever had the pleasure of, say, eating dinner with my family, you’re probably perplexed as to why we are all so damn loud. Well. Now you know!

“THIS OPTION IS NEITHER HELPFUL NOR ENJOYABLE”

So you know how I HATE ‘People You May Know‘? I guess Doree Shafrir hates it too!

I also recently penned this semi-desperate email to privacy@facebook.com:

Please, I am begging you, get rid of the “People You May Know” option, or at least make it optional for users, or make it so that users can make themselves not show up on “People You May Know”. This option is neither helpful nor enjoyable, and the bulk of peers whom I have discussed it with all agree.

They have not gotten back to me yet.

Choose Life!

Is anyone else concerned about the weird pro-life t-shirts?

A Rebuttal to Charlotte Allen…

…written with much more gracious words than I would have chosen [those words would make a sailor blush!]. Thanks, Katha Pollitt!

I know it’s triflin’ BUT:

I got quoted by Gawker. I’m #7. Yeah, it was a comment, BUT STILL. And TRUE. Fixie-riders are mostly straight! [and always cute. ;D]

Feline Companions

Today I was petting my cat Tigris/Tigress/Tigerlily [she is six months old and still doesn't have a definitive name.] and I said to her [because we, you know, talk], ‘Tigris, I don’t think I could ever love any Human the way I love you. Ours is a love that transcends just about Everything.’ Then I thought about it and instead of second-guessing myself, I concluded that it’s true! Cats are way better than people! And [BONUS!] if you ever miss irritating human qualities [because I, at least, sometimes miss really annoying things about people, like how my brother mooned people or how my old roommate stomped very loudly] cats are demanding and aloof enough to sate your cravings for Bad Behavior. Also, making a cat happy is much easier than making a human happy. All you have to do is pet it!

Also, I just played hide-and-go-seek with T-Kitty for 20 minutes. Also, I’m 22 years old.

This post is dedicated to Elizabeth England and Stefanie Gardner, two great humans who think that Annie is going to be a cat lady. -Ed.

[The 'Cat Lady' Conundrum]

Oh, famiglia. welcome to Cambridge. It is currently 11° F.

Family

Originally uploaded by Annie Rebekah

New Year’s Resolve

Oh, I think the New Year thing is So Stupid. My Cousin complained the other day about how ’shouldn’t it be in August?’ and ‘who the fuck decided that? Probably the Romans’. This is before we ended up having a really, really fun New Year’s Eve [complete with wandering around Roxbury at 2 am searching hopelessly for a cab. Next time you are wandering around this part of town late at night and opt not to accept rides from strangers- don't worry, we didn't either!- hopefully a Green Cab will come beeping to your rescue and deliver you back to your 'hood, which, incidentally, is always chock full of cabs.] Anyway, Allison and I had our usual breakfast at Twin Donuts [which, sidenote, is my FAVORITE CHEAPEST PLACE.] and while we were trying to ignore the massive hangover crowd [their loyalties are surely not like ours.] we made a list of things we are going to resolve to do. I like to make various resolutions throughout the year rather than focus on early January [because everyone is a little bitch in January anyway. If you live in a wintry climate, that is], mostly because in spite of my enormous ego I am always self-deprecating enough to think of something about me to fix [e.g. quitting smoking, losing my beer-belly, buying more shoes...], but Allison and I made a comprehensive enough list to share [and no, haters, 'date someone who does not feel threatened or emasculated by you' is not on it]:

•  Eat less Chinese food [sorry, Lucky Wah]
• After Sunday lunches at Punjab Palace, overcome food coma enough to actually go grocery shopping.
• Hydrate more when drinking, and in general
• Try to quit smoking, or draw up a plan for quitting
• Find a doctor
• Save money [from quitting smoking] for international travel
• Read more books
• Write poetry [Allison's]; Write prose/blogs [Annie's]. Establish Writing Days.
• Befriend more girls [Annie].
• Apply for grad programs [Annie].

Best: Break-up “Things”

I had it in my head to list my favorite “Things” of 2007 which was going to include books and music and various media [probably Jezebel.com would be on that list, and maybe Hillary Clinton too although I'm undecided on that front] but my head is reeling from post-holiday blues, recent break-ups, and too much gin&tonic so I’m going to make a list of the best Things about breaking up [because I feel like a vindictive little bitch]. AIGHT:

1. Paul Anka’s “Breaking Up is Hard to Do“

I’m sorry? This song makes me want to break up every day just so I have an excuse to listen to it.

2. High Fidelity

The movie, not the book [I'm a plebian on this count, although I have no doubt that Nick Hornby's writing is equally brilliant.] I try to watch this every time I get my heart broken. It helps if you have a doofy brother who can act as a parallel to Jack Black’s Barry. Additionally, one cannot surpass the epic opening line: “Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?” TOO FUCKIN’ TRUE, ROB GORDON.

3. The Magnetic Fields’ 69 Love Songs

Ok, hear me out on this one: This is a great record for falling in love, truly. However, Stephen Merritt, all-encompassing genius that he is, acknowledges all the shitty parts about love too. I’m reminded of a time in my life during my Worst Break-up Of All Time in which a friend dedicated “I Think I Need a New Heart” to me on a college radio show. Also of note for the broken-hearted: “Love is Like a Bottle of Gin” and “Crazy for You But Not That Crazy” [resonant whether you've been on the Crazy side or not. I've been on both.]

[Of Note: One thing that is sure to be a highlight of 2008 will be Stephen Merritt's Valentine's Day performance at the Somerville Theatre. I now have an extra ticket, if you'd like to accompany me. Har har har.]

4. Girlfriends and Platonic Males

I know that “you were too good for [Redacted] anyway” and “good riddance!” are the oldest cliches in Da Book, but it’s REAL cathartic to have chain-smoking seshes and watch bad rom-coms.

5. Checkin’ out Hotties

Maybe my Missed Connections karma will be resurrected?

I’m only going to say this:

JUNO was amazing. I’d be okay if Michael Cera knocked me up.

Absolutely stellar, and I’m excited to see what Ellen Page is going to do in the future.

This looks amazing, of course.

1-in-4

Dear Boys-I’ve-Kissed:

Thanks for being polite, even when I did have too much to drink. It makes you better than a disturbingly increasing amount of the XY-holding populace.

Warmest Regards,

Annie

[P.S. No, Seriously.]

I’M A BIG BABY

Waiting for employment is getting on my last nerve.

I have a job interview Tomorrow, my Day o’ Birth, at the illustrious Harvard Medical School, after three rejections from the Institution, including two entry-level-academic dream-jobs. [of course my resume is sparse, I JUST GRADUATED! I wish they could interview me and then see just how charming and capable I am.] However, I’ve been told by several Hahvahd insiders that the most viable way to land a job is to temp for some months so the fact that I actually have an interview is pleasing. Generally, though, I’m stumped as to why I want to work at Harvard in the first place. I’d be just as content working a stupid service-industry job, only with “the Real World” [a term I resent; since I've been living on my own means for OH ONLY TWO YEARS NOW] comes “Real Concerns”, e.g. a graduate-level degree, health insurance, TUITION REMISSION [glorious!!]. To be honest, guys, I’d be happy if I just got paid to be a blogger or a researcher but I GUESS I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT BEFORE I GOT A FUCKING DEGREE IN ANTHROPOLOGY.

Anyway, in theory, Boston is great, it’s just that the combination of unemployment, 9/11 Birthdays [UGH!], cold weather [already?] and no viable crushes [no different from Washington, DC, really!!] is taking it’s toll on my Sunny-as-Fuck Attitude [not to mention being at the Bottom of the Social Chain ALL OVER AGAIN. I'm not popular anymore! this is terrible!]. Sometime when I’m in a better mood I’ll write a cast list of the inimitable characters who hang out on my Allston porch on any given night, but instead I am going to fret about what to wear tomorrow and try real hard not to chainsmoke.

The Future’s So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades

A few days ago [2] I opened GMail and got this message:

	from		“FutureMe.org” <mailer@futureme.org>		hide details	Sep 1 (3 days ago)
	reply-to			pastme@futureme.org
	to			annie.rebekah@gmail.com
	date			Sep 1, 2007 1:03 PM
	subject			??

The following is an e-mail from the past, composed on Sunday, January 7, 2007, and sent via FutureMe.org

Eh? Then I remember [vaguely] sending this email because some Internet-savvy friend [sortof] found this website [FutureMe.org, shockingly enough] where you can send emails to yourself IN THE FUTURE. No, REALLY. Because apparently I got one. Barring discussions of THE space-time continuum [if you must know, that's not my forte and I don't care to understand it, and is it space-time or time-space?], isn’t that GREAT? I’m almost tempted to email myself in-the-future-one-year-from-now EVERY DAY so that I can know just EXACTLY what I did a year ago [har dee har har, Annie, isn't that what JOURNALS are for?]!

Unfortunately, the content of the email wasn’t all that juicy as far as I’m concerned. I mean, it asked if I was still in love with Some Person, which I wasn’t, and it also asked if I had found a “Dashing Gemini” [Past-Me's words, not mine!], which I haven’t, and, more importantly, it asked me if I was in Egypt, which I’m not, despite approx. four [plus] years of planning it to be that way. This made me feel a little dumb because instead of up-and-moving to Cairo I up-and-moved to Boston, and even though Boston in my mind is a lot scarier than the Motherland, most people have different perceptions of what scary is and even though people are bad drivers, Boston is Not Scary [I have my own reasons for thinking it is, but that's for Therapy and Not For You!]. All in all, I’d just like to say this: I moved to Boston largely because of Youthful Abandon and I’m not ready to give up all the things that come with it yet, like short-shorts and hollarin’ and going out for beers and PDA and dancing all night. So, FutureMe, when the cold cold winter hits and you’re pissed off because you’re not dodging cat-callers and little children and cabs built in ‘84, just remember your PastMe pursuits of Youth, Eternal. And, from FutureMe to PastMe: Don’t say I didn’t warn you.