Yesterday, I was shopping for some mentoring session snacks at WalMart and

[let me interject here and note that I KNOW how nefarious WalMart is and I hate to support them, but I am economically dependent upon them for the treats that I use to promote student attendance at after-school mentoring sessions - and believe me, these kids need to be there - so I'm not above shopping them if it ultimately makes a difference in the lives of at-risk students, so thanks for letting me quash that guilt for today]

I was approached by a woman conducting market research. She was looking for female consumers between the ages of 18 and 35 and since I fit the bill, I agreed to talk to her. She wasn't really a good interviewer - she was kind of timid and she looked tired. She flipped through a mess of papers to find a list of personal hygiene items like shaving cream, deodorant, feminine hygiene products, hair stuff, etc. Then she asked, "Which - if any - of these items would you not purchase at WalMart?"

I spared her a lecture on how I'd prefer to buy none of them at WalMart, figuring that her slightly-above-minimum wage wasn't really worth being lectured to by an uppity customer like me who was, actually, shopping at WalMart anyway. So I answered the list in the most productive way possible.

"Feminine hygiene products," I said. "I wouldn't buy those at WalMart."

"O-Okay," she said. I think she was kind of surprised by my answer. She moved closer to me and lowered her voice while she flipped through more papers. "Well, can I ask what kind of feminine hygiene products you use? Tampons, pads, or pantyliners?"

"I don't use any of those," I answered. My voice was not lowered, and I think that kind of startled her, because she jumped back a bit. "That's why I wouldn't buy them at WalMart - you don't carry anything but tampons, pads, and pantyliners."

"You don't use any of those?" she asked. Then she leaned closer. "What do you use? Is it, like, a thong?"

I stopped for a moment, perplexed at how a THONG could reasonably be used as a feminine hygiene product. I still haven't figured this one out. Instead, I decided to make this a teachable moment about the world of menstrual products - and oh, what a world it is. There are all sorts of products available that aren't sold at WalMart. I gave her a short list. She didn't write any of them down. In fact, she slowly inched away from me during my short spiel, highlighting the fact that she would probably have been doing anything - anything at all - besides asking market research questions about feminine hygiene products.

Several feet away now, she listened to my information and then politely told me, "Well, I'll make sure to tell them this." And we wished each other a good day.

Who knows? Perhaps WalMart will one day make the leap into alternative menstrual products, but somehow I doubt it. In the meantime, a good place to find out and order alternatives is gladrags.com. Tell 'em the market research lady at WalMart sent you.

Love Letter to Cintra Wilson #2
Oh, Happy Day! Cintra has published a Salon column today on Christian Bale! Yes, I know this entry can be filed under the too-trivial-Tammy-movie-crap-that-no one-cares-about, but it's high time someone wrote about being a Bale believer - and you can ask for nobody better than Cintra Wilson... I would pay to watch a toothpaste commercial that Christian Bale was in (which might, arguably, be better than many of the films he's been in - um, hello, Newsies? Swing Kids? Shaft? Reign of Fire? - well, okay, I kind of a liked Reign of Fire, tee-hee) because I believe that he possess the quality and soul that most actors can only dream of. If you haven't seen American Psycho, please stop whatever you are doing and put it in your Netflix queue - not only should it be studied for decades as how a misogynist crapola dupe of a novel was transformed into a brilliant, evocative and hilarious feminist film - but Bale delivers one of the finest performances in American cinema, period. See it and you, too, will become a believer. And then see everything else he's made because his performance is worth it. His career track is not dissimilar from Val Kilmer's the past few years: great performances in awful or, at best, mediocre films, but Val always seems to get bogged down in the material, unable to pull himself free from the bad production around him. Christian Bale transcends. Yes, I know, I'm gushing. But now that Bale is slated to be the next Batman film (directed by Christopher Nolan - there might be hope!), film lovers are looking an important turning point: after next year, we'll either be able to say that we're awfully sorry Christian Bale did THAT and didn't he used to be GREAT? or we'll be able to say thanks for salvaging something essential and good from the god-forsaken blockbuster movie wasteland.

MC900 ft Jesus was on the radio during the drive to work this morning. That got me all fired up to have a good day.

This was a great weekend. I wish I had slept more, and had not had to perform a dumb certification teachback, but that's alright. I'm sleepy, but I believe that I just used the subjunctive. I may have to teach that to high school students soon - it looks like it will be tested on the new SAT. Oh, the humanity!

Eight days to the election. I keep wondering how voters can be undecided at this point. What more could one ask for to make up one's mind?

Yesterday, I watched 'Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,' ate pad thai, and drank low-carb beer. What a sensory heaven.

I'm feeling myself coming back now, so I might very well blog about something important soon. Or at least not ramble. I've just been so rambly lately...

Outrage of the Day
As many of you old-time readers know, I used to catalogue versions of Calvin pissing on this blog. You know, the annoying decal perverting Calvin of 'Calvin and Hobbes' that annoying people stick on the backs of their annoying cars to proclaim their annoying dislike of The Raiders, Dodge/Ford trucks, ex-wives, and anything else you can think of. I've noticed far fewer of these stickers over the past year, though, and have rarely seen anything new. Until today, that is. So picture this: annoyingly huge blue Dodge truck (I'm sure the damn thing had a Hemi in it) with Dodge shit all over it. Pasted on the back window was a decal of Calvin pissing - on the words "Jap Crap."
Huh?
I was flabbergasted. I think you might be too, dear reader. How can anyone think that's okay? What kind of a (insert profane name here) do you have to be to put that on your automobile?

It's a crazy, stupid place. We need to be good to each other. I want to be believe that there's more of us than there are of dumb, ignorant Dodge guy. Prove me right.

it's been kind of a rough, quiet, jaw-tingly week or so for me. but here's what's made me happy lately. in no particular order.

striped socks. teenagers who want to vote. parabolas. lasagna. a warm bed. helping people. pints pub. sit ups. laughing with ray. tiny post-it notes. jon stewart. old friends' voices on my answering machine. the greyhound who smiled at me today. slasher movies. new sunglasses. dirty hair. watered plants. that song by the killers. strong women. thoughtfulness. smoothies.

it's a short list, but i suspect it will get longer.

i just signed up for NaNoWriMo. you should, too! write a novel (50,000 words) in the month of november. it's only 1,666 words a day. supports a good cause, gives license to moon about as a moody writer-with-ambivalence-about-deadlines for a month. i think i might have to drink some caffeinated soda to get through it all, but i'm going to write the damn thing.

Please allow me to wade into the political fray over John Kerry’s remark about Mary Cheney at the debate on Wednesday night. It’s created a firestorm of controversy, and I feel pretty strongly about it. Do I think it was a political mistake? Probably, but only because he opened himself up for attack by the Rove media machine. Do I think it was offensive, poor taste, or a “low blow?” No, no, and no. I think it’s a salient point, and it’s important, and the Cheney family reaction is about politics, politics, politics.

Let’s face it: the Bush administration has done everything it can to render gays invisible. Bush never, EVER, says the words “gay” or “lesbian” in his speeches or conversations – although he might occasionally render a halting “homosexual” followed by his bizarre chimp-like smirk. I’m quite sure that “bisexual” and “transgender” are words that aren’t even in his vocabulary. But his refusal to talk straightforwardly about a population of people – even when he’s discussing denying them basic American rights – completely obviates their existence. On top of that, the Federal Marriage Amendment he’s supporting doesn’t just “protect” marriage from gays (and I say that with all of the sarcasm I can muster, because I’ve long thought that the only people whom marriage should be protected from are, indeed, heterosexuals, but that’s another blog), it sets the groundwork to deny any and all civil protections for domestic partnerships or civil unions. Don’t believe Bush’s rhetoric – read the amendment itself. It obliterates the possibility of civil unions. So gays and lesbians are non-people in Bush’s fantasy rhetorical world, and he needs to be called out on that, and I support everyone who does that. Including John Kerry.

Even more, the Cheney family has “disappeared” their daughter time and time again. Guess which family member is missing whenever they show up for a photo-op? Guess who is never included when the family stands together at the Republican National Convention? That’s right. Mary and her partner are never allowed to be in the public eye. Never. The Cheneys want it both ways – they want to be the loving, tolerant parents, but heaven forbid anyone should mention that they’re daughter is gay! What the fuck?

Two more items call indignant Lynn Cheney and “angry dad” Dick into question. Why not punch John Edwards in the face during the VP debate when he brought it up? Further, why not get upset when Alan Keyes calls your lesbian daughter a “selfish hedonist” at the Republican National Convention. That one really boggles the mind. Here’s a REPUBLICAN saying nasty things about your daughter during the national freakin’ convention, and that’s okay? I saw Tucker Carlson on Good Morning America today rationalizing this by saying that Keyes is a sideshow who nobody cares about. If nobody cares about him, why let him speak at the RNC? Ah…because some people DO care about him – namely, the idiotic bible-thumpers who make up so much of Bush’s base. Heaven forbid the Cheneys alienate THEM by being angry with Keyes. No, but when John Kerry makes a gesture of inclusion, attempts to make gay and lesbian people real by invoking something personal, tries to make them visible where they’ve been invisible, now they’re angry.

All of this begs the question: what does Mary think? Why does she have no voice? Why, when presidential daughters are all the rage as the new spokespeople for the campaign, does she never get a blip of airtime? It makes you wonder.

As a final note on this, let me acknowledge Dick Gephardt for a moment. I know he’s a distant memory in the political consciousness of this nation, but I think it’s worthwhile to note that Gephardt has a lesbian daughter who actively campaigned for her dad in the primary. And I think it’s important to note that Gephardt actively supports her daughter, talks about her, shows up at PFLAG meetings, and has adamantly proposed the FMA and other anti-gay legislation. Gephardt and his wife are not ashamed of their daughter, have not shoved her into the closet, and do not work to keep her invisible, all the while toting their sensitivity, compassion, and tolerance. Sure, I think John Edwards is an okay choice for VP, but I really wish right now that Dick Gephardt would have been the choice. He could have ushered in the real model for compassionate parenting by politicians and set the standard. Instead, what we get is really ugly, desperate pandering by the Cheneys, who will kowtow to the ignoramus President even as he attempts to strip their daughter of her humanity.

Ray just said "monkeyhumper."

Anyway, the John Edwards Town Hall. I was impressed, really geared up. Despite the fact that I knew I was being schmoozed, despite the fact that I easily recognized the political rhetoric, I was still really impressed. Edwards is great at establishing rapport, good at thinking on his feet, and he has great teeth. I believe that if John Kerry possessed even a quarter of this guy's charisma, it would be a much different presidential race. The content? Nothing new, really. But it's awesome to see it live, and great to see it happening at the high school that I've grown to know and love. Edwards appealed directly to the students in attendance to find their voice and use it when they could. This is exactly the message that young people need today - that they are IMPORTANT, that they have a civic RESPONSIBILITY, and that what they do MATTERS. I just felt like shouting that, because these kids don't really ever hear it.

I felt a little gross when a few of the speakers payed "tribute" to Christopher Reeve. Purely for political points, and that ooged me out. Not unexpected, though.

Questions presented to him: 2 on voter fraud/protecting votes in Florida (to which Edwards responded that their campaign has hired the best legal team they can, natch), 1 on racial profiling, 1 about what Kerry/Edwards would do for youth (asked by a high school student), 1 about protecting the rights of disabled Americans, 2 on improving the military. A good, thoughtful mix of questions.

The pre-rally music was Dave Matthews Band (ugh). Prior to Edwards' appearance, we were treated to 'Where the Streets Have No Name' by U2, that 'Right Now' song by Sammy Hagar-era Van Halen, some Bruce Springsteen song I don't know off-hand, and that 'Baby, You Ain't Seen Nothin' Yet" song. I wonder: what music does Dick Cheney play during his campaign stumps? If someone knows, please tell me.

I'm anxious for the debate tomorrow night.

21 Days left to the election.


On one other note, I feel like I should send a short note to Jacques Derrida, who passed away this past weekend. I imagine him in a deconstruction afterlife, making and unmaking thoughts about the meaning of his life. While he didn't haunt my literary dreams like Lacan and Foucault, Derrida informed many of my forays into the theoretical.
Jacques, we hardly knew ya. And if we did, we were really just playing at it.

Of Note:

Last week, I discovered that a person in Lubbock, Texas was writing fraudulent checks from a new bank account I opened. This wasn't really hard to figure out, as she signed the checks (which had my name and information imprinted on them) with her own name, and on checks she wrote for her rent and electricity, included her address and apartment number. I think this will be a no-brainer for the bank's fraud services department, but in the meantime this does raise the ugly issue of identity theft in my life. Which leads me to ask all of you faithful Tammytoes readers: when was the last time you checked your credit? If you're a resident of Colorado, please don't forget that you can order one free credit report from each of the three major credit agencies every year. Take care of yourself, watch your accounts, and make sure that the Naomi illegible-last-names of the world in Texas aren't hijacking your good credit.

Tomorrow, I may be attending a John Edwards town hall meeting at the high school I work at. Will post about the experience tomorrow night.

This is the time of the year when I start eating for good causes in full force. Pink yogurt lids for breast cancer, box tops and soup labels for education, pop can tabs for Ronald McDonald house. I love to eat and help people, too.

As usual, I have to buy something in order to stay home and save money. At this junction, it's SSX3. Could you imagine that there would be sports game that would inspire coma-like behavior in front of the TV from me? It makes me wish I could carve without breaking my ass.

My jaw is no better, no less. I'm on month four.

Thanks for inviting us to your wedding in Costa Rica, Carrie and Zach! We are excited to soak up the sun with you.

End Random Transmission.

Yesterday on the drive to work I saw a small group of clowns on the corner across the street from the Pepsi Center. I gathered that this was some sort of publicity for the circus, which is in town. The clowns were dressed in full, frightening clown regalia, and holding signs the read, “Save the Clowns!” and “Clowns are Good!” and “Clowns make children happy!” One of them looked straight at me and made eye contact, then signaled for me to honk and show my support.

Now here’s the thing: clowns are scary as hell.

Clowns might make some children happy, but to a huge number of them, they just inspire terror. As a kid, I hated clowns and I was confused whenever some well-intentioned adult would shove me towards one, pointing and laughing and saying, “Tammy, look! There’s a CLOWN! A CLOWN!” Despite my instincts to kick the clown in the knees and run off, I usually just ended up paralyzed by fear and confusion.

Psychologists have identified “coulrophobia” as the persistent and abnormal fear of clowns, and have claimed that it’s a phobia that can be cured. But I know the truth: clown fear is just good sense. And you don’t grow out of clown fear.

So there I was, stuck at a red light with Mr. Big Polka-Dot Pants and Stupid Red Nose flashing a sign at me, claiming that he makes children happy. Did I honk? Fuck no. I white-knuckled the steering wheel and hit the gas pedal as hard as I could when the light turned green.