Bat, Balls and Dugout

I was privy to a debate last night that involved discussing the merits of hair removal in the male nether regions. At the heart of this issue was whether to do the "bat, balls and dugout". The consensus among the men involved was bat and balls: no, dugout: yes. This surprised me. I always thought the idea was the less hair, the bigger everything looked. But it turns out the guys think bare balls make them feel, and look, like 8 year-olds.

Which brings me to a very important point.

Not having hair on your hoo-ha is unnatural. For men or women. The expectation that women should groom themselves to look like pre-adolescents, in some ungodly union with the porn star aesthetic, is ridiculous. Groom away--trim, shave, maintain. But bald is weird, and has always been a double standard. The argument men like to make is that hair gets in the way. Well then, wax your sac. Oh, that sounds unpleasant? Welcome to the club. If I have to deal with your short and curlies, you have to deal with mine.

There are plenty of things women have to do already to spare men the reality that we are human. In fact, it seems to be a sentiment at the heart of the entire beauty industry. Cellulite does not exist. Dark circles under the eyes? Forget it. Pouty lips, no underwear lines, padded bras, corsets, high heels. All an effort to disguise if not outright deny the existence of limp hair, a bad complexion, or a flat chest. To be fair, we still judge men on many levels, but, judging based on physical qualities is not something immediately available to us. (Read: it's easier to tell what a woman's body looks like under her clothes than a man's. Don't think you're the only one who's been in for an unfortunate surprise).

So please, please, before we all become freaky, plasticized versions of humans, devoid of hair, sweat, and imperfections, let's not peer pressure each other into painful and unpleasant hair removal for no reason. Unless you're ready to go bat, balls, and dugout. You should think long and hard: is that what you really want?

The Backlash Rule

I'm listening to the new Arcade Fire album. OK I KNOW. Apparently that makes me one of the mindless drooling hipsters who can't tell their heads from their asses and insist the Velvet Underground were "very influential" in their decision to become an artist. For the record, I don't really like the Velvet Underground (now I'm REALLY a fake hipster) and secondly, fuck you.

I would like, once and for all, to say that just because a band is popular doesn't make it shitty. Coldplay used to be good. I admit their most recent album really sucked, BUT I saw them live a few years back, and unless you have a shriveled, blackened heart, they are fun live. The Coldplay phenomenon sort of happened to Snow Patrol too. Two years ago they were so on the edge, and now because VH1 decided to play that video where the guy is laying down all over the place every five minutes, they are the epitome of uncool.

Arcade Fire may have tickets on Craigslist going for $200, but so what? Those fuckers are energetic if nothing else. There are like 14 of them, and they jump around and hit each other in the head, and the lead singer sort of looks like a cross between Michael Pitt and Billy Corgan with hair, and they're French Canadian. So there.

The backlash rule is very well documented. Small group of totally edgy 20-somethings find a new band to love. Band plays a few shows in random, shitty venues, and gets a bit of a following. Band plays slightly larger shitty venue, which sells out in nanoseconds. Suddenly promoters see they have something to exploit. Word spreads. Other, slightly less edgy 20-somethings begin claiming they listened to the band "back then". Pretty soon the lead singer is dolled up on the cover of Rolling Stone and they are officially NOT HIP anymore. I'm surprised the cover story on SPIN didn't ruin TV on the Radio's street cred, but I think their music is just bizarre enough that they'll never be totally popular to the masses.

Anyway. Since we all recognize this backlash rule, can we just let it go? I want to be able to admit I like Arcade Fire in a room full of people and not have someone with an asymmetrical haircut roll their eyes at me. Actually, nevermind. I don't really care what people with asymmetrical haircuts think. They can roll their eyes. Whatever. But my point is, I guess, I like some bands that may be considered uncool these days. And instead of lament the day I graduated college and began the slow decline into cultural irrelevancy, I can rejoice in the knowledge that I graduated college at all and don't live in some converted loft, pretending like my giant, drafty windows and lack of a proper bathroom somehow give me legitimacy.

Even though it's been totally obvious since childhood, I am officially coming out of the closet as slightly uncool and it feels SO GOOD to finally stop living a lie.

Open Letter to the MTA

Dear MTA,

Not cool.

I took four trains to get to work today. This makes no sense. Ok, I’ll admit, I was running a little late to begin with. But when, at Bergen Street, you turned my F train into a G train, that was not okay. Then, after waiting on the platform with about 1,000 other disgruntled people for another F train, you turned that one into a G too. Then I got angry. At that point I’m thinking, “Do I join the other angry people on the platform again, or do I stay on this train one stop and transfer to the A?” Because as you know, the G train, if you’re trying to get to Manhattan for work, DOES NO GOOD. And if two F trains in a row are re-routed, it stands to reason that maybe, just maybe, ALL F trains are going to be re-routed for the foreseeable future. And then I really would’ve been fucked. Had I known this was not the case, perhaps I would have made a different decision about staying on that God-forsaken G train, transferring to the C after one stop, and then transferring back onto the F train again. Because that’s what I did. And it sucked.

I usually love you, MTA. Despite the fact that you house rats, crazies, and other unmentionables, you are useful to me.

That is why it pains me so when you do this to me so unexpectedly. All I need is a little communication and we’ll get through this. Even when you screw me on weekend travel, there are signs posted (most of the time) that warn me in advance. Or if it’s really important, I can check online. When you pull this right in the middle of my commute, I’m up shit creek without a paddle, and after spending over an hour with you, I become homicidal. This benefits no one.

For your sake and the sake of all your other loyal passengers, I hope this is the last time we need to have this talk. I’m counting on you. Please don’t let me down.

Love,
Passenger # 2,876,541

Hooking Up is Hard to Do

“Unhooked: How Young Women Pursue Sex, Delay Love and Lose at Both” is a book by Laura Sessions Stepp that I have not read. Thus, I will not comment on its contents specifically, but rather the apparent themes within it according to a NY Times article published yesterday.

The issue at hand is whether “hooking up” is a good thing for women emotionally. Whether, in an effort to “liberate” ourselves, we are really playing right into men’s hands, giving them sex too readily and depriving ourselves of the ability to have fulfilling emotional relationships.

According to the Times article, Step asserts that “This culture of sexual aggression…often leaves young women physically and emotionally unsatisfied. It leads them to gamble with their health. And by never taking the time to get to know and care about one man…young women may be rendering themselves incapable of forging stable, loving relationships.” Couldn’t the same be said for men?

Although women may be the “sexual gatekeepers,” it takes two to be emotionally willing to enter into a more complex romantic relationship. (Just because a woman says “I’m ready for more” doesn’t mean she will find the man to give her that). Sometimes the choice for women (particularly in an urban dating environment, when everyone feels the “grass is greener,” because of the sheer number of people around) becomes hookups or nothing. Is women’s willingness to buy into the hookup culture partially due to men’s general reluctance to be equal partners in serious relationships? Or is it because we are too picky? In a culture where women have supposedly been sexually liberated, it seems unfair to deprive ourselves of physical pleasure merely because we cannot find someone with whom we want to spend the rest of our lives.

There is of course middle ground between celibacy and just hookups. But try being a woman with remotely high intellectual and physical standards, who enjoys sex, and suddenly hookups don’t seem like such a bad idea. And let the record show that sometimes hookups lead to relationships—healthy, loving relationships.

Perhaps it is a larger cultural problem: now that we can openly have sex outside of the walls of marriage, we wonder, why buy the cow? Or, perhaps the expectation of love = good sex has been shattered too many times to make us believe in it anymore. And why subject oneself to the pain of loving someone and finding out that you don’t fit together in that (arguably) most important way? I think we can all agree that no healthy relationship is built on sexual indifference.

Regardless, I don’t think hookup culture is going to go away. So how do we learn to live within it, enjoy ourselves, but also leave open the possibility of something more?

Praying for No Rain

Praying for no rain is a lot harder to do when you don’t believe in God.

I suppose you could be saying, “isn’t praying for anything a lot harder if there’s no God?” Well, yes, technically. But weather is one of the few things in life we have no immediate control over, and were you wishing for weather-related intervention, it would have to be divine. I’m not talking about global climate change obvs, just things like avoiding ill-timed torrential downpours (no! I just straightened my hair!) or the vain hope for snow days when you haven’t done your homework.

Come to think of it, even if there were a God, I think it would be hard to convince Him that it was worth working up a snowstorm to save your sorry ass from a test, or your stupid shoes from the rain. Given the amount of global famine, disease, civil unrest, domestic violence, child molestation, animal cruelty, homelessness, unemployment, racism, sexism, ageism, crap TV shows, snuff films, and Jessica Simpson, you’d think He’d be a little too busy to listen to your stupid fucking wish.

In fact, I would hope that if there were a God, and you had the balls to ask Him for a snow day, that he would smite you for being a sniveling little brat. Stop whining already.

But the more I think about it, the more that list comes to mind and I start to feel a little less sympathetic toward this God who may or may not be listening to all your meaningless prayers. So what is the deal with all that suffering, anyway? Is God just really lazy? Are you telling me that every single one of the people going through those things has somehow sinned enough to deserve it? Ohhhh, you’re saying humans are too stupid to understand God’s will. I get it. That makes PERFECT sense.

While you all wait around to die and find out the truth once and for all, I guess I’ll just pack my umbrella.