Let's talk about one of the FDA's newer anti-smoking ads targeted at teenage girls. This is the one I mean.
If you don't feel like watching it, let me give you a quick rundown- a girl sits at a cafeteria table and talks about someone, referred to using male pronouns, who manipulates her life and controls how she spends her time. Obviously, she's talking about cigarettes. She's seen smoking outside at the end of the commercial.
My problem with this ad is that it plays off of a very real problem to create an advertising shtick. Violence and abuse within teenage relationships is a serious issue that has not been addressed enough; the CDC states that, according to a nationwide survey in 2011, nearly 10% of teens experienced violence at the hand of their girlfriend/boyfriend. Furthermore, 20% of women who experience rape or physical violence from an intimate partner report first experienced partner violence as teenagers. This ad implies that smoking is just as bad as partner violence, when only 4% of tenth-graders and 9% of twelfth-graders smoke regularly.
This echoes a trend I've seen in several media campaigns, most notably from PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals). Clearly attempting a "shock and awe" tactic, they have placed women in cages and even in plastic packaging. These strategies make light of the serious objectification and human trafficking issues that plague women in the US and abroad.
There are better ways to draw attention to the harmful effects of smoking. If this is an ad campaign targeting teenagers, playing off partner violence that ten percent of the target faces only serves to alienate those people.
Rates of teen smoking have gone down dramatically in the last few decades, so the FDA is doing something right. Why, then, should we devalue the importance of healthy relationships (key to developing emotional and mental health) to tell kids that smoking is bad? The last several decades of school health programs and initiatives have told teens that smoking is bad, while some of the most popular media aimed at girls and women tells them abuse is okay. Shouldn't we do something about that?
Friday, August 1, 2014
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Fireworks
Let's talk about courtesy and common decency.
Pioneer Day is my least favorite thing about Utah. There are so many aspects that just rub me the wrong way, and I had every intention of getting the hell out of town for it. Alas, car problems put a stopper in those plans.
I live near the park where they do their large fireworks display. It is also where the parade route ends. I was prepared for lots of cars. I was not prepared for how badly-behaved the attendees would be.
The fireworks nonsense starts at about seven- people park their cars in the surrounding neighborhoods and flock into the park to ooh and ah as colorful sparks explode overhead. There people seem to have very little regard for the actual residents of said neighborhoods- honking and being loud, walking through front yards, general bad behavior.
What surprised me the most, though, was how some of these visitors chose to hang out in the residential areas, rather than continuing towards the park. As the sun went down, people stood in the street and fired off bottle rockets. One person, who parked their car on a corner of our intersection, shot a flare gun towards cars and houses.
What is the deal? Who parks in someone else's neighborhood and behaves so poorly? Why are there so many people who are impatient to go and watch a fifteen-minute fireworks display? I don't personally care for fireworks, and I really don't care for the kind that people launch high into the air.
This is something I have noticed about Salt Lake- many people here have very little interest in the feelings or personal well-being of others. You have a right to light fireworks (I guess); you do not have the right to launch them towards my house and make me feel unsafe. This is the thing about personal liberty- your rights end where mine begin, and vice versa. I do not have the right to do something that jeopardizes the health of others. You do not have the right to do something that jeopardizes the health of others. If you want to light your own backyard on fire, be my guest. Do not park in front of my house, pull out a pack of PBR, and proceed to fire rockets over my head. It will end unpleasantly for everyone involved.
Pioneer Day is my least favorite thing about Utah. There are so many aspects that just rub me the wrong way, and I had every intention of getting the hell out of town for it. Alas, car problems put a stopper in those plans.
I live near the park where they do their large fireworks display. It is also where the parade route ends. I was prepared for lots of cars. I was not prepared for how badly-behaved the attendees would be.
The fireworks nonsense starts at about seven- people park their cars in the surrounding neighborhoods and flock into the park to ooh and ah as colorful sparks explode overhead. There people seem to have very little regard for the actual residents of said neighborhoods- honking and being loud, walking through front yards, general bad behavior.
What surprised me the most, though, was how some of these visitors chose to hang out in the residential areas, rather than continuing towards the park. As the sun went down, people stood in the street and fired off bottle rockets. One person, who parked their car on a corner of our intersection, shot a flare gun towards cars and houses.
What is the deal? Who parks in someone else's neighborhood and behaves so poorly? Why are there so many people who are impatient to go and watch a fifteen-minute fireworks display? I don't personally care for fireworks, and I really don't care for the kind that people launch high into the air.
This is something I have noticed about Salt Lake- many people here have very little interest in the feelings or personal well-being of others. You have a right to light fireworks (I guess); you do not have the right to launch them towards my house and make me feel unsafe. This is the thing about personal liberty- your rights end where mine begin, and vice versa. I do not have the right to do something that jeopardizes the health of others. You do not have the right to do something that jeopardizes the health of others. If you want to light your own backyard on fire, be my guest. Do not park in front of my house, pull out a pack of PBR, and proceed to fire rockets over my head. It will end unpleasantly for everyone involved.
Saturday, July 19, 2014
Caturday
That is his duck. Much like everything else I own, it belonged to me until he decided he liked it. That has been the fate of that duck, a stuffed bunny, blankets, pillows, socks, et cetera.
Marvin likes to eat food that I eat. Not just fish, but cheese, bread, crackers, potato chips, peas, lettuce, whipped cream, ice cream, mashed potatoes, pasta, and cake. He will climb your body to get at a slice of pizza. He'll leap at your to steal your corn chips.
Marvin is not like other cats I have met. He's got weird food preferences, doesn't mind water, and he greets me when I get home from work. When I adopted him, I did not expect to get a little friend who is so loving and loyal. I did not expect him to get excited every time it snows. I did not expect him to act like a dog.
I sound like a freaking cat lady, but there's only one cat in my life. I'm not crazy about him because I'm crazy about cats; he's nuts about me, and I return the favor.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Drunk Fridays
A recipe:
This has been a particularly difficult week, ending with a particularly difficult Friday. It is improved, however, by the acquisition of cheap sunglasses.
I don't see the point of spending a great sum of money on sunglasses. They never end up quite to my liking when I spend more than twenty dollars, and I feel reluctant loyalty to them out of the sheer fact that I could have bought pizza for what they cost. This leaves me with a desire for cheap plastic glasses, the kind you see on a rack in the grocery store near the registers. Never more than fifteen dollars, these oddities shield my eyes from migraine-inducing sunlight while looking to be worth every dollar paid.
These sunglasses, purchased at Fresh Market, are fabulous. They are brown-tinted, which I prefer, and rimmed with brown plastic. However, said plastic is accentuated with a rather vibrant teal. Most importantly, the sides are set with four stunning plastic "diamonds," each of which really give the glasses personality and a sense of mystique.
Would I pay more than ten dollars for these beauties? Absolutely not. I could pay more for sunglasses that look better and irritate the living fuck out of me, or I could pay ten dollars for strange plastic glasses that amuse me. We should choose our apparel based on what makes us happy; those who claim we dress for others have never worn a onesie.
My new sunglasses made me happy with their novelty and their affordability. What made you happy today?
- Pour a sizable quantity of rum into a large glass
- Add your favorite soft drink, and/or ice
- Consume with great haste
This has been a particularly difficult week, ending with a particularly difficult Friday. It is improved, however, by the acquisition of cheap sunglasses.
I don't see the point of spending a great sum of money on sunglasses. They never end up quite to my liking when I spend more than twenty dollars, and I feel reluctant loyalty to them out of the sheer fact that I could have bought pizza for what they cost. This leaves me with a desire for cheap plastic glasses, the kind you see on a rack in the grocery store near the registers. Never more than fifteen dollars, these oddities shield my eyes from migraine-inducing sunlight while looking to be worth every dollar paid.
These sunglasses, purchased at Fresh Market, are fabulous. They are brown-tinted, which I prefer, and rimmed with brown plastic. However, said plastic is accentuated with a rather vibrant teal. Most importantly, the sides are set with four stunning plastic "diamonds," each of which really give the glasses personality and a sense of mystique.
Would I pay more than ten dollars for these beauties? Absolutely not. I could pay more for sunglasses that look better and irritate the living fuck out of me, or I could pay ten dollars for strange plastic glasses that amuse me. We should choose our apparel based on what makes us happy; those who claim we dress for others have never worn a onesie.
My new sunglasses made me happy with their novelty and their affordability. What made you happy today?
Changes
As my latest post was well over a year ago, I consider this a kind of starting-over point with this blog. I've got a new name and a new URL; with it, a new sense of dedication. I vow the following:
That said, here are the realities:
Given these, I would not hope for much. I would like to meet your expectations; thus, those ought to be set fairly low. I can be witty, but I can also be boring and wildly uninteresting. If you're bored or wildly uninterested, best to wander off now.
- I will update regularly.
- I will add photos of things I like.
- I will generate entertaining themes for posts.
- I will not wait to post again until 2015.
That said, here are the realities:
- I am lazy.
- I am extremely lazy.
- I swear too much to be family friendly or particularly work appropriate.
- I would literally forget my own ass at home were it not attached, so help me God.
Given these, I would not hope for much. I would like to meet your expectations; thus, those ought to be set fairly low. I can be witty, but I can also be boring and wildly uninteresting. If you're bored or wildly uninterested, best to wander off now.
Monday, June 3, 2013
New Shoes
Shoe shopping is stereotypically associated with women- women supposedly love to buy shoes, own tons of shoes, can't get enough shoes. Well, here's my deal- shoe shopping is painful. Not physically painful (usually), but emotionally painful. This is due to the fact that I have an extraordinary foot problem.
My Left foot- long, narrow, perfect for heels- is a women's size 9 (US). My right foot is a size 5. While my left foot has long perfect toes, my right's are stunted little stubs. This is because I had Amniotic Band Syndrome in utero, which essentially cut off development for my right foot. My metatarsal 1, also called the Big Toe, was amputated completely, and I was born with only four tiny toes on that foot.
This means that, while others may enjoy buying shoes, I have loathed such an activity for most of my life. Because of the shape of my right foot, I flat-out cannot wear most kinds of sandals and heels. I have an orthotic insert for sneakers, boots, and lace-ups. This means that if the shoe's insert can't be removed to make room for my orthotic, I don't buy it. The orthotic doesn't bend, which means it can't be worn in any shoes with a heel that causes the sole to be curved. If I do want a pair of sandals (that don't have a T-strap, mind you, I can't wear those) or heels, I have to buy two pairs. More importantly, I have to find two pairs of the same shoe that are in size 9 (pretty easily found) and a size 5 (almost non-existent). I then have to shell out twice as much money as the normal purchaser would. Two-for-one deals are like goddamned Christmas to me.
Recently, I ventured into the world of online shoe shopping. At a lot of sites, you can get pretty good deals and you're more likely to find a 5. However, I can't hold them in my hands, judge whether or not they are going to work well with my poorly-designed foot. This also means returning said purchases is harder, which means the anticipation is worse. I ordered two pairs of a flat shoe recently, and they arrived today. I spent about a week being nervous about them- would they fit right, would they be the right sizes, et cetera. They arrived, fit perfectly, and made me wildly happy. Through the miracle of the internet, I am gradually coming to terms with my hatred of shoe shopping.
It's not as bad of a problem as, say, having no right foot at all, but it's something that affects my life every single day. Because of its shape, it gets weird muscle cramps. My knee has a lot of problems and because I'm missing some muscle attachment sites that are normally located on the structure of the big toe, my leg muscles are in a lot pain when I do certain activities. If regenerative medical technology gets good enough, I have every intention of having it replaced. It's not like having unruly hair or oily skin. It causes me problems that, because of the rarity of my condition, cannot be anticipated by doctors. It sucks. And up until now, shoe shopping has constantly served as a reminder of that.
So yeah, I got new shoes today. They fit well and I like them. And that's a pretty big accomplishment.
My Left foot- long, narrow, perfect for heels- is a women's size 9 (US). My right foot is a size 5. While my left foot has long perfect toes, my right's are stunted little stubs. This is because I had Amniotic Band Syndrome in utero, which essentially cut off development for my right foot. My metatarsal 1, also called the Big Toe, was amputated completely, and I was born with only four tiny toes on that foot.
This means that, while others may enjoy buying shoes, I have loathed such an activity for most of my life. Because of the shape of my right foot, I flat-out cannot wear most kinds of sandals and heels. I have an orthotic insert for sneakers, boots, and lace-ups. This means that if the shoe's insert can't be removed to make room for my orthotic, I don't buy it. The orthotic doesn't bend, which means it can't be worn in any shoes with a heel that causes the sole to be curved. If I do want a pair of sandals (that don't have a T-strap, mind you, I can't wear those) or heels, I have to buy two pairs. More importantly, I have to find two pairs of the same shoe that are in size 9 (pretty easily found) and a size 5 (almost non-existent). I then have to shell out twice as much money as the normal purchaser would. Two-for-one deals are like goddamned Christmas to me.
Recently, I ventured into the world of online shoe shopping. At a lot of sites, you can get pretty good deals and you're more likely to find a 5. However, I can't hold them in my hands, judge whether or not they are going to work well with my poorly-designed foot. This also means returning said purchases is harder, which means the anticipation is worse. I ordered two pairs of a flat shoe recently, and they arrived today. I spent about a week being nervous about them- would they fit right, would they be the right sizes, et cetera. They arrived, fit perfectly, and made me wildly happy. Through the miracle of the internet, I am gradually coming to terms with my hatred of shoe shopping.
It's not as bad of a problem as, say, having no right foot at all, but it's something that affects my life every single day. Because of its shape, it gets weird muscle cramps. My knee has a lot of problems and because I'm missing some muscle attachment sites that are normally located on the structure of the big toe, my leg muscles are in a lot pain when I do certain activities. If regenerative medical technology gets good enough, I have every intention of having it replaced. It's not like having unruly hair or oily skin. It causes me problems that, because of the rarity of my condition, cannot be anticipated by doctors. It sucks. And up until now, shoe shopping has constantly served as a reminder of that.
So yeah, I got new shoes today. They fit well and I like them. And that's a pretty big accomplishment.
Monday, November 19, 2012
Christmas Decorations
It's that time of the year- THE HOLIDAYS™ are upon us. Store shelves laden with tinsel and snowmen figurines, strands of small lightbulbs stapled to porches and wrapped around fences, wreaths made of everything from actual fir tree limbs to pinecones to shining garland. And you want to know the biggest secret of all (read: not a secret at all)?
I love Christmas.
Specifically, I love Christmas decorations. I love dragging the fake tree out of the closet (I am, in fact, allergic to real trees), I love taking an hour to put the lights on because they must be evenly spaced, I love carefully planning the placement of each and every ornament. I love candy canes of all flavors and I love getting out my light-up snowman to put in the window.
Someday, when I am not a poor college student, I will buy everything in the holiday isle at the store. I will have five trees and so many lights that my whole house glows. Every available surface will be wrapped in various colors of garland and I will make hundreds of paper snowflakes to hang from the ceiling. I will put real snowmen all over the front yard (or fake ones, if global warming continues to ruin Christmas). I will put up these decorations in early November and take them down around Valentine's Day (probably the worst of all holidays).
The real kicker about all of this is that I am not a Christian. I quit when I was ten, which means I have technically been a not-Christian longer than I was a Christian. I don't care about the Bible, I don't care about any of the mythology. It is my understanding that Jesus wasn't even born in the winter. I have no interest in any of that.
What I do love is the joy that a decorated tree gives me. I love the memories wrapped up in my family's collection of ornaments. I love our nativity scene, not because of the Jesus part, but because I colored on some of it with crayon when I was a kid. I love hearing stories about the holidays- like the one about my great-uncle drunkenly crashing into the tree while riding a pogo stick indoors.
I love the morning of, when my sister and I get up early and then wait as long as we can before charging into my parents' room to make them get out of bed. I love watching my family members react to their gifts- one year we got my dad a ghillie suit (Google it) and a pair of Wellington boots. He proceeded to run out into the driveway while wearing said items and bellowed. It was hilarious.
So that's why I love Christmas. It isn't about religion, for me, any more than Halloween is about religion. It's important to me because it both appeals to the obsessive side of me, and to the sentimental side of me. It's about making good food, putting up flawless decorations, and enjoying my loud and crazy family.
So yes, I put up Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving. In fact, I whistle Christmas carols while I decorate. I would not have it any other way.
I love Christmas.
Specifically, I love Christmas decorations. I love dragging the fake tree out of the closet (I am, in fact, allergic to real trees), I love taking an hour to put the lights on because they must be evenly spaced, I love carefully planning the placement of each and every ornament. I love candy canes of all flavors and I love getting out my light-up snowman to put in the window.
Someday, when I am not a poor college student, I will buy everything in the holiday isle at the store. I will have five trees and so many lights that my whole house glows. Every available surface will be wrapped in various colors of garland and I will make hundreds of paper snowflakes to hang from the ceiling. I will put real snowmen all over the front yard (or fake ones, if global warming continues to ruin Christmas). I will put up these decorations in early November and take them down around Valentine's Day (probably the worst of all holidays).
The real kicker about all of this is that I am not a Christian. I quit when I was ten, which means I have technically been a not-Christian longer than I was a Christian. I don't care about the Bible, I don't care about any of the mythology. It is my understanding that Jesus wasn't even born in the winter. I have no interest in any of that.
What I do love is the joy that a decorated tree gives me. I love the memories wrapped up in my family's collection of ornaments. I love our nativity scene, not because of the Jesus part, but because I colored on some of it with crayon when I was a kid. I love hearing stories about the holidays- like the one about my great-uncle drunkenly crashing into the tree while riding a pogo stick indoors.
I love the morning of, when my sister and I get up early and then wait as long as we can before charging into my parents' room to make them get out of bed. I love watching my family members react to their gifts- one year we got my dad a ghillie suit (Google it) and a pair of Wellington boots. He proceeded to run out into the driveway while wearing said items and bellowed. It was hilarious.
So that's why I love Christmas. It isn't about religion, for me, any more than Halloween is about religion. It's important to me because it both appeals to the obsessive side of me, and to the sentimental side of me. It's about making good food, putting up flawless decorations, and enjoying my loud and crazy family.
So yes, I put up Christmas decorations before Thanksgiving. In fact, I whistle Christmas carols while I decorate. I would not have it any other way.
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