Always Anna

You know I’m a Packers fan.  And you know I love Brett.  And today, officially, he’s not a Packer.

I’m angry.  And sad.  And my feelings whip back and forth so fast between wanting to scream and wanting to cry – with brief bursts of acceptance in between – that I feel like I have emotional whiplash.

It’s been a messy divorce, this separation of Packers and Favre. As a Packer fan, I have to support my team and still root for them to win, right?  But as someone who’s only ever known Brett as the QB for my team, how do I relate to my team without him there?  Especially since even though I believe that both the Packers management and Brett did their part to f*ck up this situation, when push comes to shove, I believe that Brett was more right. 

I believe that the Packers shouldn’t have pressured him into retiring, then refused to talk to him when he realized that he still wanted to play.  And can very clearly still play WELL. 

I believe that the Packers should have understood and appreciated the fact that Brett has defined their team for almost two decades, and should have welcomed him back with open arms.

I believe that Ted Thompson, our douche of a GM, should have put his own ego aside and not refused to consider starting someone other than Aaron Rodgers. While I’ll admit to never liking Aaron (HI, he played for Cal, and I’m a USC fan!), it boggles the mind that TT could be so caught up in supporting “his” draft pick that he doesn’t take into account the fact that Brett took them to numerous NFC North Championships, NFC Playoffs, and the Super Bowl. 

I’ll miss seeing you in Lambeau, Brett.  I’ll be rooting for you in New York.

Packers?  I’ll be rooting for you in the fall.  But I know that watching football this year will not be the same.

You know how I was all pissed off yesterday?  Well, Thesaurus.com fixed it!  From their blog:

We take your concerns about language and society seriously (this is, after all, our business) and after reading feedback on the entries for female and lady, we carefully reviewed our editorial decisions. In light of how our customers use Thesaurus.com on a daily basis, we chose to remove “weaker sex” as a informal/slang synonym from our site.

Now, to complain about the differences between their synonyms for man and woman. 

My work is never done.

Yesterday: I bounced and squealed my way around the office because Kate Hudson and Anne Hathaway were filming a scene from Bride Wars right around the corner from my office.  Their trailers were RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY OFFICE BUILDING.  Obviously, I stalked the movie set until I saw them.  Kate is freaking GORGEOUS.  I didn’t get quite as good a view of Anne – I just saw the side of her face and back – but she looked amazing too. 

I’m loving that so many movies are filming so close to my office – it makes it easy to go see famous people!

*************

Today: I read on Jezebel (my favorite gossip site because it provides more substantial content than most, has great writing, and is committed to reducing girl-on-girl crime) that, when you look up the word “weaker” on Thesaurus.com, the two main entries that you get are “lady” and “female.”

I looked it up and it’s true.  Sigh.  I just contacted the site to complain.  You should too.

Update: I just read through the comments on Jezebel and looked into thesaurus.com’s crappy synonyms some more.  Want to be disgusted and horrified and PISSED OFF?   Check out the definition of man.  Now check out the definition of woman.

I am SEETHING.

For the past two nights, for no apparent reason, I’ve been staying up until 1 AM.  Since I have to get up at 6 AM - okay, 6:30 at the latest - to get to work, this means I’m only getting about 5 hours of sleep a night. 

I know that there are people out there (i.e. everyone I work with) who will respond, “Five hours?  That’s more than enough sleep!” Or, “Wait until you have kids – five hours will seem like a gift!”

To this, I only have one response.  Five hours of sleep makes me want to pass out under my desk.  And – while I know it’s not fair for me to take my exhaustion out on you - if you want something from me when I’m tired, you better figure out some way to ask nicely.  Otherwise, I might staple something to your forehead.

Also, stop assuming I’m having kids.  The circles under your eyes and constant stories about how expensive they are and consistent response to the question, “How was your weekend?”*?  They’re not making me want to go there.

Clearly I’m a little cranky today.  But I think the premiere of Cycle 10 of ANTM tonight, then going to bed early, will put me in a better mood tomorrow.

* In case you’re wondering, the response is always, “Well [insert name of child here] had [insert name of sport] games this weekend, so I got to watch their games!  S/he scored [insert number here] points!”  Except around Christmas, when the response involves some type of toy shopping, tree decorating, or movie watching.  Which is fun, but I can do on my own, thanks.

Two weekends ago, I was out to dinner with some friends when we started talking about the upcoming presidential election.  When asked who I planned on voting for in the primaries, I was embarassed when I had to reply, “I don’t know yet… I haven’t really paid much attention.”

After the 2004 election, I just couldn’t deal with continuing to focus on politics.  I was drained, depressed, and angry about the path that our country chose to go down.  Knowing the risks, knowing the stakes, people across the country made it very clear that choosing a leader for the country was a popularity contest.  Do you know how many people said things to me like, “Well, I don’t know if I approve of Bush, but… well… I just don’t really like Kerry.”  Excuse me? 

I’m still fired up about it, actually.  It’s just been easier for me to let it lie dormant, because I can’t spend every day crying for the future of my country.

What brings this up today?  Well, I actually started out the morning crying, when I read Clink’s post about Jamie Leigh Jones.  A female employee of KBR, a former subsidiary of Halliburton, was brutally gang-raped by coworkers while working overseas in Iraq.  She did all the right things, reporting the attack and getting medically examined, only to be locked in a freaking metal box and guarded.  KBR “lost” the evidence that the medical team collected and has been trying to cover the whole thing up. 

I really can’t say it any better than Clink, who said:

Boys will be boys, eh? Isn’t that the mentality?

And boys will certainly be boys when they know they can get away with anything – gang rape, killing innocent civilians – all without repercussions.

Excuse me while I go rock back and forth in a corner.

I’m angry.  Angry and horrified and sad and depressed.  How can things like this happen? 

Politicians, get ready for a boatload of emails from me.  I’m officially politically active again. 

For more information on Jamie’s story, read the ABC News article here.  And visit her foundation website, which aims to “provide help and relief for individuals male or female who have suffered injury or harassment in the corporate or small business world in the United States and Abroad.”

I crawled into bed around 11:30 last night, exhausted and ready to pass out.  I flopped onto my back, then rolled over to make sure my alarm was set.  As I flipped onto my back again, my neck let out a scream of protest.

Yes, I managed to injure myself rolling over in bed.

I woke up about once per hour last night, and tried to reposition myself in a way that would help my poor neck.  No luck.  Today, my neck is so stiff and sore that I can’t turn or tip my head to the left at all.  I’m sitting at work now, trying to stretch my neck out without crying, while wondering if I should be doing something else.  An ice pack?  Heat pad?  I have no idea – I’m actually pretty tough and don’t usually have these kinds of problems.

So clearly, the best thing to do is go online and buy new pillows that I’ve been craving forever.   I can’t wait until they arrive.

I’m experiencing a moral dilemma of epic proportions, and I just can’t figure out what to do.

For the past three months, I’ve been trying to find a basket for the bicycle that the BF got me for my birthday.  Because of the unique shape of the front of the bike – the front shock sticks out at an angle near the handlebars – not all bike baskets will fit on the handlebars.  And I don’t want a rear basket.  So I’ve researched and researched and researched, and the only basket I can find that should work is called the Bell Carry Away Handlebar Basket.

Which, after an exhausting online search, I can only conclude is only sold at Wal-Mart.

I hate Wal-Mart.  Hate it with a fiery passion.  And I really, really, really don’t want to give them my business.  I did once buy a pair of underwear and a chapstick at Wal-Mart – but I had to throw both away because it so horrified me that I owned something from that store.

Now, I’m not necessarily against all big chain stores.  I understand that all stores are in business to make money, and I don’t think that being big means that a company is inherently bad.  How can being successful in itself be bad?  But there’s a difference between stores like Wal-Mart that get to where they are by trampling over workers and land owners and the environment and anything with a soul, and only do good things if they think it will get them good press, and stores like Target and Starbucks that succeed while giving back to their workers or community or environment.  Plus, Wal-Mart has no style.

So how can I buy the basket from that store?  It goes against my vow to never again deal with that store voluntarily.  But I need the basket – I’m tired of wearing my stupid backpack everytime I want to ride my bike somewhere!

Sigh.  I’m at a loss.

While out earlier this week, one of my guy friends said, “Thanks for letting [the BF] come out with us three nights last week!”  The comment threw me off, but I just laughed and said, “No, thank you for getting him out my hair!”  But it’s been bugging me ever since. 

It bothers me that people assume that I’m somehow responsible for the BF’s actions.  I know there are a lot of people out there that want to have some level of control over their significant other’s choices (and it’s not just girls – I’ve got guy friends that are like that too).  But I don’t let the BF do anything.  And he certainly doesn’t let me do anything. 

Maybe it’s because my own independence is so important to me, but I would never want to be in a relationship that required asking permission to do something.  We’re adults, right?  We can make our own decisions.  This doesn’t mean that I don’t care about what the BF does – I expect him to let me know what his plans are so that I don’t make conflicting plans.  But I trust that he takes me into consideration when he’s making plans with his friends, just as I do for him. 

But does it sound rude if, the next time someone thanks me for letting the BF have a life, I reply, “I’m not his freaking mother!  I don’t tell him what to do!”

If I could put on my feminist hat for a minute…

I’m completely terrified of the road that our government has chosen to go down in banning partial-birth abortions with no exceptions for a woman’s health.

“Partial-birth abortions” – a term invented by Bush’s conservatives – aren’t a pretty thing. And it doesn’t seem like anyone chooses to use this method as a form of birth control – it’s such a horrific procedure that it’s pretty much only used in cases of fetal distress or the health of the mother. So why is this even an issue? Why is a conservative government trying to increase the control of the federal government – aren’t they supposed to be for smaller government?

Clearly, this is just the first step towards repealing a woman’s right to make decisions about her own body.

I’m scared.

Things bringing me down right now:

• Exhaustion from working ridiculously long hours in order to meet ridiculously short deadlines at work.
• Thoughts about doing my taxes before this weekend – yeah, that’s right, I stupidly haven’t started them yet.
• Disbelief that they kicked Whitney off of America’s Next Top Model last night instead of Jael.

Things bringing me back up right now:

• Dog-sitting for the cutest freakin’ beagle of all time. (Don’t worry, there will be pictures later!)
• Pants made for roundhouse-kicking people in the head.

All in all, I’d say things are pretty even.