Finger on the Pulse

For those of you who've been waiting with baited breath, it seems (shockingly) that The Huffington Post has declined to print my retort to "They Should've Warned Me" (See prior post titled: They Should've Warned Me Not to Read the Huffington Post).

Readers may recall that the inspiration for that post was Jenny, the accomplished Selfie-Photographer/Yoga Teacher, and the unbelievably awesome time she is reportedly having in Newborn Baby La-La Land.

Instead, The Huffington Post printed a much, much kinder retort from someone who is A Bigger Person Than Me and who was able to express a similar sentiment to mine, but with significantly less snark and vitriol: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/stephanie-sprenger/im-glad-someone-told-me_b_6498148.html.

Interestingly, after sympathizing with those of us who failed to cherish nursing at 3:00 a.m., this author simply could not resist pointing out that (heh, heh), of course she, personally, also had zero problems whatsoever with this stage: ("I'm going to be honest here: the three months after my second daughter was born were maybe the happiest of my entire life."), thereby summarily undermining the central conceit and credibility of her entire piece.

Well, I'm also going to be honest here: earnestness and sincerity are both boring and unfunny.

Accordingly, I offer you the following as consolation. Today, I failed to heed my own warning and skimmed The Huffington Post during lunch. It was then I discovered that this periodical really has its finger on the pulse of the important issues of the day. If their 89 point font bold headline banners don't convince you of that, this article should:

It is called--AND I SHIT YOU NOT--"Thankfully, Someone is Preserving a History of Wallpaper" (Italics in original): http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2015/01/20/wallpaper-history_n_6465970.html?utm_hp_ref=huffpost-home&ir=HuffPost+Home.

Now, it's not immediately apparent whether The Huffington Post and The Onion share an editor, as there's scant evidence of that beyond the title of this article. It's also not apparent whether this article is in fact satire, but all signs point to no. And I know what you're thinking, but this is not sour grapes for The Huffington Post's failure to recognize my own blogging genius (so far).

Really, I think we can all be relieved that: (a) Someone [sic.] is preserving a history of wallpaper; and that (b) The Huffington Post is hot on the trail of this story and drawing attention to this critical issue. 

Accordingly, my future ideas for five new pitches to The Huffington Post are as follows:

• "I'm Glad Facebook Keeps Trying to Make Me Buy K.Y.-Brand Vaginal Lubricant." 
• "It's a Good Thing Dr. Scholl's Was Sufficient to Remove My Child's Plantar Wart." 
• "Fortunately, Greek Yogurt is Now On Sale for $3.00 at Fred Meyer." 
• "What a Relief it is That Starbucks Now Carries Almond Milk." 
• "Thank Heavens I Found the Missing Attachment to My Dyson Vacuum Cleaner." 

Surely they will jump on one of these?

Okay, NOW The Huffington Post is Officially THE WORST. Please Boycott Them.

I've gone on numerous rants before about how the Huffington Post is officially the most ethically bankrupt publication on the internet, run by the most clueless socialite on the planet. (And no, I'm not just saying that because they once declined to reprint one of my blog posts). 

From their screaming click-bait tabloid headlines to the fact that Arianna Huffington herself has personally lured friends of mine away from good writing jobs into dead-end ones, the main reason (up until today) that HuffPost sucks so hard is that they don't pay their professional contributing writers. I know this from personal experience. My husband Geoff wrote for HuffPost for awhile (for money, you know, since that's his job), but pretty soon they were like, hey, we'd love for you to keep writing (i.e. working) for us--but for FREE from now on!

Wow, REALLY Arianna Huffington?! I know you've never actually had to pay a bill with a paycheck, but we mere mortals do that every month. Hating on Arianna Huffington is quite possibly the only thing Donald Trump and I have in common. 

That's like me going to a gift shop down the street and just asking for jewelry. You know, because a few people in town like my blog, right? And they'll see me wearing your jewelry. It's like, EXPOSURE for the jewelry store. That's a little closer to extortion than exposure, if you ask me. Make no mistake: HuffPost is very canny about this; they even have their own surrogates in full Patty Hearst/Stockholm Syndrome mode, trumpeting all the reasons you should work for the Huffington Post (and elsewhere) for free and just give away your livelihood.

M'kay. No thanks.

So I didn't think I could hate the Huffington Post any more, but now HuffPostUK has gone to next-level craven journalistic atrocity by posting--and then deleting--in its "comedy" section a video prank mounted by a misogynistic sociopath. 

In the video, which is still available in the deeper crevices of the internet (a.k.a. YouTube), this dude named Brad Holmes rubs a chili pepper on a tampon and then records his girlfriend screaming in agony at the result as she inserts it into her vagina. Staged or not, this does not send a good message: commit an assault-crime, film it, and then post it on the internet for likes and shares.

I couldn't agree more with Jezebel's Joanna Rothkopf when she says pranks are "a made-up thing that allows people to be terrible to other people in a socially-acceptable context." 

A video like this isn't funny. It's normalizing domestic violence to a bunch of impressionable millennial bros who love the Jackass movies and think this is an okay, clever, hilarious thing to do to another human being; someone you supposedly love.

I don't share HuffPost articles and I don't click on them anymore. I'm not here to tell anyone what to do or what to read, but just know that when you click on the Huffington Post, you're driving traffic to a site that exploits and gaslights creative labor, and celebrates and trivializes domestic violence.

Think before you click.

The Best Worst Poll Ever

If it weren't for The Huffington Post, I don't know how I'd continue to find material for this blog. Oh wait. There's also Yahoo News, Slate, Shit My Friends Send Me, The Endless Supply of Douches in The World, and My Totes Fucked Neurotic Mental State. 

So I guess there's still some unexplored terrain. 

Today's post is a Venn Diagram overlap of The Huffington Post/Shit My Friends Send Me categories of material. APPARENTLY . . . wait for it . . . Derek Jeter and his model girlfriend, Hannah Davis, split a check for pizza in Italy! 

The Huffington Post wants to know what you think about this. They've got a radio-button poll with four options answering the question "Should Jeter have paid?," (after noting that both people on this date are gazillionaires). Possible answers: (1) Yes; (2) No; (3) Whatever makes Hannah comfortable; and (4) Wow, slow news day?!

As the friend who sent this to me noted: "When HuffPost KNOWS its story and poll is insane and wants you to vote to let it know that you know that it knows, that my friend is blog-post worthy!"

I agree! 

That's why I've devised my OWN best worst poll for readers to answer, which I am titling "O.H.M.'s Best Worst Poll Ever." I started to do this as a real poll on SurveyMonkey, but then I got lazy and gave up. (99% of stories in my life end with that sentence).

1. What is the worst general category of bros?"
(a) Frat bros
(b) Tech bros
(c) Finance bros
(d) Hipster bros

2. What is the worst category of Alaska bros?
(a) Ski-guide bros
(b) Seasonal tourism industry bros
(c) Racing bros
(d) Sledneck bros

3. What is the worst minor physical affliction?
(a) Hangnail
(b) Stubbed toe
(c) Paper cut 
(d) Zit inside nostril

4. What is the worst form of group electronic communication?
(a) Reply-all emails
(b) Group text
(c) Facebook group message
(d) Evite/SurveyMonkey

5. What is the worst way to end a text message convo?
(a)  Silence
(b) "Haha nice"
(c) Any emoji
(d) ;)

6. What is the worst part of the male body to sext to a woman?
(a) Dick
(b) Balls
(c) Taint
(d) Pecs

7. What is the worst common female health annoyance?
(a) Period while on camping/rafting trip
(b) Yeast infection
(c) Urinary tract infection
(d) Ineffective sports bra

8. What is the worst minor annoyance at work?
(a) Reply-all emails
(b) Forced conviviality
(c) Not being able to take a leisurely crap in peace and privacy
(d) Poor indoor climate control

9. What is the best/worst Gwyneth Paltrow death scene in a movie?
(a) Gwyneth Paltrow's head in a box in Seven
(b) Gwyneth Paltrow's convulsive flu-seizure in Contagion
(c) Gwyneth Paltrow's overdose in Country Strong
(d) Gwyneth Paltrow's head in an oven in Sylvia.

10. Who is the best/worst douche on the pop-music scene today?
(a) Adam Levine
(b) Kanye West
(c) John Mayer
(d) Chad Kroeger from Nickelback

They Should've Warned Me Not to Read The Huffington Post

Here's a very sweet and earnest blog from The Huffington Post that's making the rounds today, and I must say it's pretty amazeballs.

Far be it for me to cynically hate on anyone else's blog, since Lord knows my blog brings the hate like no other, and rightfully so. But this particular post cries out for a retort. 

The gist of it is that when this young, sexy, fit, yoga teacher named Jenny who takes lots of selfies was pregnant, the whole world warned her that having a newborn would be hard and horrible. Well, joke's on them, 'cause they were all wrong, wrong, WRONG!

Yeah, she's tired, but she's happy. VERY happy. She wants you to know how very happy she is. But most of all, she wants you to know how wrong everyone else was. Her baby is perfect. She has a rock the size of the Hope Diamond on her finger. Her husband wants to fuck her brains out (as evidenced by the picture of them kissing). And she fits back into her jeans after six weeks: ("They should've warned me ... that my body would actually fit back into my jeans in six weeks, but that I would be way too comfy in leggings to bother with actual pants."). 

She especially wants you to know that six-week thing. Like, a lot.

Well ... count me among the haters who failed to "cherish the soft quietness of the whole world, cat at my feet and baby nursing in my lap and cry because these days are fleeting." First of all, I am deathly allergic to cats and I hate them more than anything that draws breath on earth. Second, I did cry, but not because the days were fleeting. To the contrary, I cried because the days and nights were interminable; my tits looked and felt like they'd gone through a meat grinder; and I was so deliriously tired that often when I'd nurse at night, I'd doze off only to wake with a terrified start, thinking my baby was lost in the woods somewhere, when in fact he or she was half asleep and still latched onto my boob.

I'm happy for Jenny that her "heart shatter[ed] onto the floor" and melted like "molten lava" when she first met her baby and heard her husband cooing to the baby. By way of comparison, though, I'd be lying if I didn't confess that the only thing that shattered on the floor in my house was a plate of fried rice I dropped, and it made me cry. Just like everything else. 

Also, I think I left a plastic Tupperware on the stove by mistake. That melted like molten lava.  

We all love our babies, but some of us (like me) loved them with more terror and less inner peace. My main memories of mothering newborn babies are that I was afraid they were about to stop breathing at any second, and preparing to leave the house for an afternoon felt like blasting off to the moon on a mission for NASA. 

I also recall that I was still bleeding into my granny panties two months post-partum, and that at least with my daughter, I didn't shit for two weeks, and when I finally did, it was so terrifying that my mom had to sit there and constipation-doula me through the experience and I was screaming and crying and it was even worse than giving birth (if that is possible) and, according to my mother, she had "never seen anything like it, not even in medical school."

So, why didn't anyone warn me about that? 

Hey, Girlfriend

Awhile back I wrote a post called "Oh Boy," listing ten things I wanted Isaac to know by the time he reached adulthood. The idea came from a friend who'd recently read a Huffington Post blog post titled: "Ten Things Your Daughter Should Know Before She's Ten" and another friend who'd asked about raising boys with an awareness of sexism. Since I made a list for Isaac, I've been thinking about making a similar list for Paige, too. One that recognizes the things I hope she internalizes and learns by the time she's a grown woman. There is some overlap with Isaac's list and there are lots of lists like this all over the internet. So once again, I'm not claiming originality in form or content. But based on my own personal experience and values (what else is there, anyway?) here's my list for Paige. I wish I could say I've always done all of these things. But I haven't. And maybe that's the reason for the list to begin with.

1. Be assertive: Assert yourself. Stand up for yourself, your ideals, your principles, and your values. Don't cower in a corner and stay quiet when you see something wrong or someone being mistreated.

2. Be kind to other girls and women. You're in this together. Support your fellow girls and women. You will share struggles, and you're on the same team. Don't stab other women in the back, betray them, be mean, or compete unnecessarily with them.

3. Protect yourself sexually: Not just from pregnancy and STDs, or even from rape and sexual assault, which you can't necessarily protect yourself from anyway. There's probably not a woman alive who hasn't felt sexually threatened at least once. You can't avoid those experiences altogether. But you can minimize them by avoiding situations where you're in unsafe places or in a compromised state of sobriety. And you should only pursue sexual relationships with men who understand the concept of true consent and who love you--or who at least care about you. Because no matter what anyone says about fun, casual sex, or friends with benefits, sleeping with someone who doesn't give a shit about you (and who lets you know it) feels exactly like what it is: shitty.

4. Embrace math and science: There's a stereotype that girls are bad at math and science. Educators have studied this up and down, and it's pretty clear it's a gender and social problem, not an intellectual one. So don't tell yourself--or let anyone else tell you--that you're "bad" at math or science.

5. Love your body: You only get one body. Don't hate it or treat it badly, even when society inevitably tells you that you should. Treat your body with the respect it deserves. Give it nutrition and exercise and use it to swim, climb mountains, ski, and dance.

6. Don't depend on a man to make you happy or do things for you: I don't mean that men aren't dependable, or that you shouldn't have a good partnership with a man. I mean you should know how to do typically "male" things like making fires, changing tires, fixing garbage disposals, operating power tools, etc. And you should never, ever depend on a man's affections (or anyone else's) for your happiness. It's key to self-sufficiency.

7. Understand finances: There's nothing more boring than money, especially the vacant pursuit of money. You want to make a living, not a killing, as they say. But part of making a living is making a budget and taking a basic interest in dry and boring things like pensions, insurance, and investments so you can protect yourself and your future.

8. Kiss a girl: This is kind of a weird one, but it goes beyond sexuality, I think. Yes, there is a certain fluidity to sexuality, arguably more so for women than men. But the experience of kissing another girl is really mind-opening on many different levels. You might be short-changing yourself on those insights if you never do that.

9. Apply for that job and take charge when you get it: Even if you think you're under-qualified; even if you think you're a fraud. Your'e not. Reach beyond what you think you can do in your work life and prove yourself wrong.

10. Travel: I had this same exact wish for Isaac. See the world. Find out how people live from Europe to Africa to Asia and beyond. Understand your privilege. Broaden your horizons. Always.

If Congress Really Cared About Murder...

Then here's how this article from The Huffington Post would read:
 
WASHINGTON -- House Republicans created a special committee on Wednesday to investigate abortions, mass shootings, fetal tissue  assault rifle procurement, and the use of federal funds at Planned Parenthood  the NRA. 

Lawmakers voted 242-184 on a resolution establishing the committee, which will function as an Energy and Commerce subcommittee and will have the power to subpoena documents and testimony. Its stated mission, among other things, is to examine "medical background-check procedures and business practices used by entities involved in fetal tissue "weapons procurement" and "federal funding and support for abortion providers the NRA."

The special committee comes a few months  days after anti-abortion activists released a series of heavily edited undercover videos that purported to show the family planning provider breaking the law by selling fetal tissue after abortions the most recent of nearly 300 mass shootings this year. Multiple state investigations and a federal investigation by the Energy and Commerce Committee have so far been unable to find any facts to support that claim the claim that reasonable regulation of assault weapons wouldn't help curb deaths during mass shooting events.
 

Planned Parenthood The NRA, which legally accepts money to cover the costs of transporting donated fetal tissue to medical researchers, lobbying Congress on behalf of the weapons manufacturing industry has slammed the videos shootings as "deceptively edited" the work of mental illness and denies any wrongdoing.

During Wednesday's debate, Republicans couldn't say that Planned Parenthood the NRA broke any laws. Instead, they railed against abortion  mass shootings in general and described how disgusting it was to see videos of fetal tissue being removed from aborted fetuses innocent people lose their lives to senseless gun violence. 

"It's one of the most repulsive things to watch," Rep. Mike Kelly (R-Pa.) said.

"Even if Planned Parenthood the NRA complied with the law, it's clear we need to learn more about their barbaric tactics so we can amend those laws and ensure these practices never happen again," Rep. Virginia Foxx (R-N.C.) said.

Photo: Washington Post/Getty Images

I Wonder if I Give the Correct Type and Quantity of Fucks?

I've written before about the importance of being selective about what fucks you give and to whom in this life, particularly as a woman. One of my all-time favorite discerning fuck-givers is the comedian Amy Schumer, as described in this piece by Emma Gray in the (oft-maligned by me) Huffington Post. 

Someone shared Ms. Gray's funny article with me today, and the gist of it is that giving ZERO fucks is unrealistic and deadening, and women should embrace the need to give SOME fucks about things that matter. Ms. Gray pronounced Amy Shumer "the queen of giving all the fucks," and I couldn't agree more.

It made me wonder whether I give the correct type and quantity of fucks, and how to realign my priorities so as to maximize fuck-giving about things that matter and minimize fuck-giving about things that don't. 

For this exercise, I've divided my fuck-giving into the following three categories: (1) fucks given; (2) zero fucks given; and (3) fucks reluctantly given, but trying hard to give fewer fucks.

Let me be perfectly clear: you should give ZERO fucks about someone else's fuck-giving prioritization, including mine. This is an FYI only and you should give zero fucks about this entire post! In fact, you should also give zero fucks when someone else tells you what to give a fuck about, including what I just said in the preceding sentence. This is getting rather meta, but you catch my drift.

With that said, here are my fuck-related priorities. I found this to be a useful exercise, particularly with respect to the third category in which I was forced to admit that fucks are given where they should not necessarily be.

FUCKS GIVEN

• Professional ethics and doing a good job for my clients.
• Doing pro bono legal work for people who can't afford it.
• Speaking out against bigotry in its many insidious forms.
• My kids being considerate and relatively polite human beings with good character and a healthy sense of physical and emotional self-preservation.
• Showing up for my friends, keeping their confidences, and offering them meaningful insights.
• Being a good daughter to my parents.
• Spelling and grammar.
• Being a good role model to young female professionals I encounter at work.
• The health of the planet.
• Anticipating needs and helping people without being asked first.

ZERO FUCKS GIVEN

• That my blog might be too outspoken and/or self-revealing for some people.
• People going off on me in a Facebook or Twitter feed.
• Nursing in public.
• People treating me with implicit or explicit sexism.
• What other people think about my parenting style or decisions.
• What my house/car looks like.
• What people think about the reversal of gender roles in my marriage.
• Most material possessions.

FUCKS RELUCTANTLY GIVEN, BUT TRYING HARD TO GIVE FEWER FUCKS

• My physical appearance.
• Being excluded sometimes.
• Being vulnerable.
• Other people's general opinions of me.
• External validation of any kind.
• The contents of my alumni magazines.

I Really Need More Reasoned Critique of Trevor Noah

There's something I've been missing lately, and it's reasoned critique of Trevor Noah. 

The new host of The Daily Show totally slipped into Jon Stewart's place on the only legitimate news program on television without so much as a word from anyone.

Like there is almost NOTHING online about Trevor Noah at all. No one is talking about how he did in his debut; how he compares to Jon Stewart; how he will handle the fame; whether he is an anti-Semite; how his race informs his comedy; whether he has yet grasped the art of The Daily Show interview; how he chooses his musical guests; how well or poorly those musical guests performed on his show; how many nights he has been hosting and how he has fared on each one so far; and so on.

When I Google "Trevor Noah," I only get 31,400,000 results and I need at least 31,400,001 to feel like there is sufficient information available online and elsewhere about Trevor Noah. Basically what I'm saying is that the level of Trevor Noah saturation is nowhere near where it should be.

For example, between the first and last sentence of this post, I forgot who Trevor Noah was for a second. I know he is someone with two first names like his predecessor. And I know his predecessor's name. But that's all I know.

Please: Slate, Mother Jones, Huffington Post, Salon, NYT, and any other periodical online or in print that contains letters that are put together to make words and words that are then in turn made into sentences: I need more reasoned critique of Trevor Noah.  

Thank you.

Doubling Down on The Duggars

Yesterday, a friend emailed me this article from The Huffington Post with the comment: "If Michelle Duggar is going to double-down, you MUST double-post!"

Well, I'm more than happy to oblige.

Two things have received very scant attention this week in the media: the Duggars and Catilyn Jenner. In fact, if there are two things I feel like I need to know a LOT more about, it's the Duggars and Caitlyn Jenner. Seriously, it's a travesty of journalism that these topics have not been covered more extensively.

That's why I feel it's my personal obligation and duty as an incredibly mean, piece of shit, asshole, idiot, profane, giddy, hobby-blogging, mouth-runner to run my big, fat, profane, giddy, asshole mouth once more about the things inside of Michelle Duggar's head, since those very interesting things happen to dovetail nicely with the emergence of Cailtyn (f.k.a. Bruce) Jenner into the public consciousness. 

See, Michelle Duggar's head is both full of very profound insights about transgender people, and crowned in a stylish coif that's the envy of every Labradoodle in America. But I think M. Duggs (that's her gangster name--I just made it up) has been inhaling a little too much Aquanet, because what she had to say about transgender people doesn't exactly compute.

In her recent ratings-grab shit-show of an interview on Fox, M. Duggs doubled-down in defense of a robo-call she made against an LGBT non-discrimination ordinance in Arkansas, where she claimed that--like wolves in sheep's clothing--the law would allow transgender people (or, as she put it, "males with past child predator convictions that claim they are female") to prey on the junk of innocent girls in a women's restroom.

Because DUH.

That's what being transgender is all about. The only reason transgender people live with stigma, prejudice, fear, and discomfort for decades until they can finally transition into the body they feel they were always meant to inhabit is so that they can dress up in drag, sneak into a bathroom meant for the opposite gender, and pretend to powder their nose while secretly taking a creep-peek at one of M. Duggs' ten zillion kids. The kids, that is, who were molested right under M. Duggs' very own roof by the only "male with a past child predator conviction" anyone is talking about these days. 

Except wait. Actually no, he doesn't have a conviction, because his crimes weren't reported and the statute of limitations ran out.

Oops!

Time to shut your green bean casserole and marshmallow Jello-mold-hole, M. Duggs, and just quit while you're ahead. Because I promise: the sharts that come out of your mouth are way more disgusting than anything a transgender person has ever done while using a public restroom.

Oh Boy

I started this blog not knowing what it would be and I still don't really know what it is. I know I want it to be a place people can go to laugh, think, and read things that resonate with them. To that end, I asked people to start suggesting topics for posts. Two responses I received were: (1) Raising boys with an awareness of sexism; and (2) A spin on a Huffington Post blog post titled, "ten things your daughter should know before she's ten." This is an amalgam of those two ideas. When I was pregnant with Isaac, the sonogram tech told me he was a girl. For ten weeks, I thought Paige was going to have a sister only to discover toward the end of my pregnancy (in a second sonogram) that my sweet little girl had mysteriously sprouted a twig and berries. "What the hell am I going to do with a BOY?!" I thought to myself, slightly panicked. My mom gave me a book about raising boys, and I confess I haven't even cracked it, although Isaac turns four on Saturday. So I've read nothing about raising boys. No articles, no books, nothing. I'm totally winging it. But having a boy has turned out to be a wonderful gift, because the mother-son relationship is truly special. I know what I want Isaac to know, do, and be. Not necessarily before he's ten, but certainly by adulthood. I'm lucky to know many wonderful men, and I've known some not very wonderful ones as well. More commonly, I've known men who are wonderful, but who didn't always act that way. A quick skim of the interwebs reveals these sorts of lists are common, so I'm certainly not claiming originality in format or even in content, necessarily. With that disclaimer, here's my list for Isaac:

1. Know your power and use it wisely: A friend who works with victims of domestic violence said this to me once: like it or not, men have power in our society. Good men realize and accept that, and they use their power wisely and with discretion. 

2. Be kind to animals. A man who's kind to animals is usually kind to people. Always be kind to animals.

3. "No" means "no" and "yes" should be sober: Along the lines of #1, men should know their sexual power and always get safe, sober consent from a partner (male or female). For everything, every time.

4. Wear a dress/play with dolls: There's no such thing as "boy" and "girl" toys or clothes. These are imaginary social constructs. Feel free to experiment with clothes and toys and don't allow gender constructs to confine your play and style.

5. Strive for diversity in friendship: As a white male, it's easy to lose sight of the privilege you've been afforded by sheer dint of birth. Cultivate friendships with people of different races, religions, and sexual orientations. It will enrich your life deeply.

6. Always be polite to strangers in any interaction: Never talk down to another human being. Ever. You should extend the same level of respect to a homeless person that you would to the President of the United States.

7. Don't let your salary define your masculinity: Don't let a number on your paycheck define your value one way or the other. If you marry a woman, don't worry if she makes more (or less) money than you.

8. Hone some life skills: learn to be competent in key life skills: e.g., swimming, driving, cooking, sewing, laundry, changing a tire, cleaning, fixing things, growing things, managing a budget, etc. Not because you're male, but because you're human, and you should know how to do things for yourself.

9. Befriend strong women: Make female friends with opinions, interests, careers, goals, and talents. Learn from them, respect them, emulate them.

10. Travel: See the world. Find out how people live from Europe to Africa to Asia and beyond. Understand your privilege. Broaden your horizons. Always.

Arianna Huffington Says I Have Time to Take My Fat Ass to Pilates

"Being swamped is SO 2014," a friend said wryly when she emailed me today with this article, in which Arianna Huffington--editor-in-chief of the eponymous Huffington Post and unofficial queen of modern media's intelligentsia--gives you, me, and the rest of the First World's bedraggled masses a little pat on our collective frazzled head by assuring us that "there's enough money time in her your life for everything important."  

Thank GOD you guys. FINALLY! I can stop suffering under the delusion that the only 37 minutes in a 24 hour cycle of personal and professional drudgery bliss that I have to myself is 5:00-5:14 a.m. and 9:00-9:23 p.m, and get on with what really matters: starting a crowd-funding campaign for my new line of hemp baby slings; making a dozen cupcakes from scratch that look exactly like those little yellow minion guys from Despicable Me; going to a 2.5 hour Pilates class; and grabbing a Venti iced half-caf Americano from Starbucks on my way home.

Let O.H.M. help you turn over a new leaf by saving you the precious nine minutes it would take to read Arianna's article for yourself, and just sum it up here instead. Basically, if Arianna knew at 22 what she knows now, she would "save [you] from the perpetually harried, stressed-out existence" she experienced for so long before she had a gazillion dollars saw the light. 

You see darlings, "our culture is obsessed with time," and "when it comes to winning the war on time famine, we are our own worst enemies. To win that war, first we have to declare that we want to change," or so says the 52nd "most powerful woman in the world" according to Forbes magazine. 

Oh, thank you, thank you wise, noble, worldly, and extremely-well-aging Arianna, whose perfect coif is clearly prepared each morning by a six-person team of salaried hair-fairies. I hereby declare that I want to change. I want to "win the war" on "time famine!" I am FAMISHED! I'ts like 1845 in Ireland up in here. Please help me put some time potatoes in my empty tummy, 'cause I'm "my own worst enemy" with this shit.

Let's see. What do I need to do?  At a minimum (and speaking of famine), I need to change my eating habits. According to her bio on Wikipedia, Arianna spent her 30's "touring three star restaurants in France" with her boyfriend. I've spent my 30's mindlessly eating cold leftover chicken dipped in ranch dressing with my bare hands while standing at my sticky kitchen counter and staring off into space. I should really take the time to fly to Cannes and sit down to a nice seven-course meal prepared by Alain Ducasse. N'est-ce-pas?

Right-y-O. Ok. Done. Next!

I should also make time to determine what's lame now, because that is very important. In 1998, Arianna said of American politics: "The right/left divisions are so outdated now. For me, the primary division is between people who are aware of what I call 'the two nations' (rich and poor), and those who are not." And this was 1998! Even then, Arianna was busy declaring what's not cool anymore---before it was even cool to declare what's not cool anymore! It was Arianna's progressive view of "time" that helped her achieve this transcendental state of enlightenment, which brings us to the present day, when being busy is for losers.

See, all we need to do is become naturalized citizens of Rich Nation, and then we will no longer be "starved" for time. Because according to Arianna, it's all about "making time" for "what's important." But if we're being honest, Arianna, it's also about making a fuck-ton of money to pay someone else to give you back your time, so that you can use it to leisurely inspect seventeen varieties of heirloom tomatoes at the Marin County farmer's market at 11:00 a.m. on a Tuesday morning.

Because when you're like a good friend  hero of mine who's a single mother of four kids under 13 and working two jobs with no child care, it's all your fault that you keep trying to pack so much into the day. You just need to change your outlook and realign your priorities! Then you won't need to worry your pretty little head about stupid shit like kids' socks and dirty pots and voice mail at work and babysitters and all the other things you can pay someone else to deal with. Instead, you'll be able to eat escargot in Paris and have sufficient time to tell the poors how to "enjoy the benefits of time affluence." Yep. You'll never be famished again!

Yesterday, we went for a family walk after dinner, and Isaac stopped to throw some rocks at a tree. Sensing he might be holding up the works with this diversion, he turned to me and literally said verbatim:  "Let's just take our time and enjoy our life, mom." 

See, who needs Arianna? I've got my four year-old son giving me the exact same advice.  

Smart kid.

How to Run a Successful Non-Profit Corporation

The Huffington Post published a blog by Jennifer Laszlo-Mizrahi on how to run a successful non-profit: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/jennifer-laszlo-mizrahi/10-tips-for-running-a-suc_b_1631775.html. Good thing too, because I really needed this advice.

My household is a non-profit with a cantankerous two-person board of directors, ages four and seven, and a demanding CEO who is not me. It's all we can do to keep this enterprise afloat; to keep the funders and the board happy; to make sure we don't experience "mission creep"; and to file our taxes correctly and on time. I've re-printed five of Ms. Laszlo-Mizrahi's ten tips here verbatim, but have customized the content slightly:

1. "Have a clear vision, mission statement, theory of change, and performance metrics."

You should be able to "define in eight words or less the outcome you want to create for the world." Fine. Here it is: "Keep my kids alive and out of prison." That's the goal. Once the goal is established, you should "be very clear regarding how you will specifically achieve your goals," and "specify the resources you will need and the metrics you will use to check your performance." Also fine. We will achieve these goals with (mostly empty) threats, begging, and bribery. We will need a minimum three percent cost-of-living adjustment raise every year. Our progress metrics will be a lack of teen pregnancy and drug use, and a minimum 3.2 GPA.

2. "Say 'NO' to every good idea."

You should reject "good" ideas in favor of "great" ones, and "the most important tool in your tool chest is the word 'no'." Perfect! I already scream say "NO" about 1,000 times per day. And I reject many, many "good" ideas all day long. For example, just yesterday, I rejected Paige's suggestion that we launch a remote control helicopter off of Isaac's head. You also "must keep yourself and your team focused on making breakthrough results happen." Well. Psssh. We just built the Heartlake LEGO Shopping Mall, didn't we?

3. "Perfection is the enemy of the 'good enough.'"

You're not supposed to strive for perfection, because "perfection is too slow to achieve in a rapid 24/7 environment." Again, excellent! I gave up on perfection long ago, so we are already doing this. For example, Isaac's pull up leaked the other night, and instead of washing the sheets, I just put a towel on top until the pee dried up and we all forgot about it for a couple more days until his room started to smell like pee. Good enough!

4. "There is no "I" in team."

It's recommended that you "praise those who are doing a good job" and "reward excellence." Fortunately, we live in an age where we're all supposed to tell our boards of directors what a good job they are doing by running around in a circle kicking a ball, and then give them Welch's fruit snacks and Honest Tea juice boxes as a reward. Done and done! Also, I'd like to take this opportunity to point out that although there is no "I" in team, there are no fewer than seven "I's" in "I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS HOUSE IS STILL SUCH A FUCKING SHIT HOLE!"

5. "Don't forget to take a vacation."

Apparently people "forget" to do this. Who knew? Supposedly, "breaks enable you to take a step back and re-evaluate people, processes and performance metrics." Again, good. I just took a vacation, but I sort of forgot that it was one, since I was with my board of directors and my CEO. This advice comes just in time for me to get back to the resort spa known as my office, where I can (usually) complete a sentence and a thought without interruption. There are no margaritas or conga lines, but there are Cheetos and Diet Dr. Pepper, and no one is asking me for any of it.

2015 is the Year of the Non-Profit!

Sometimes It's Just Too Easy

To make fun of The Huffington Post:

Maybe at least part of the reason teens are so moody and impulsive is because no one has taught them grammar; a viable candidate for president of the United States is tweeting out logo farts; and royalty still exists and it wears crocs? Just a theory. At least teens can take comfort in the fact that if something happens to their penis, they can get a penis transplant (hopefully from an organ donor who's hung like an ox) and the new penis might still get some girl pregnant by mistake.

15 Things I'd Like to Crush and Then Snort Up My Nose

Before you judge the title here, I encourage you to read a recent article from The HUFFington Post (Badum-dum-KSH!) about snorting chocolate up your nose.

In case you don't feel like doing that, let me summarize it for you: according to the fine chocolatiers of Europe and Canada, the only TRUE and sophisticated way to "taste" and appreciate fine chocolate is by doing a line of cocoa powder off a glass table like you was Wesley Snipes in "New Jack City."

Naturally, this brought to mind the many other sensory experiences that I personally think could be enhanced simply by crushing something up and and snorting it up your nose.

I came up with the following 15 things:

1. Gasoline
2. New car smell
3. Own farts
4. Baby-head skin flakes
5. Franks Red Hot buffalo wing sauce
6. Nestlé Toll House cookie dough
7. Old books
8. Old Spice for Men
9. Dry erase markers
10. Bacon
11. Kettle Corn
12. Fried Twinkies
13. Earring cheese
14. Guacamole
15. Debbie Gibson's "Electric Youth."

Before you go on with your day, I highly recommend that you go out, procure one of these substances, pulverize it into a fine and dehydrated powder, roll up a dollar bill, and snort that shit like it was your last hit of crack before going in for 20 years of hard time upstate.

You heard it here first, people.

Happy Hallo-I-Put-My-Kid-in-a-Gender-Nonconforming-Costume-and-an-Asshole-Made-a-Big-Deal-Out-of-It-and-I-Turned-Those-Conformist-Lemons-Into-Viral-Content-Lemonade-Ween!

Happy Hallo-I-Put-My-Kid-in-a-Gender-Nonconforming Costume-and-an-Asshole-Made-a-Big-Deal-Out-of-It-and-I-Turned-Those-Conformist-Lemons-Into-Viral-Content-Lemonade-Ween!

I LOVE this time of year. Pumpkins, trick-or-treaters, colorful fall leaves, World Series baseball, warm roasted root vegetables. 

But my favorite part of October by far is all the heartwarming stories of boys wearing Elsa from Frozen costumes and girls wearing Superman costumes, getting criticized or made fun of for it by some narrow-minded ass-backwards dipshit, and their parents turning this experience into a cautionary tale/viral manifesto on social media.

Now, I haven't personally experienced the phenomenon of Halloween costume-based persecution in real life, but I'm obviously against it. And rest assured if I did witness it, I'd say something about it. 

I'd also do something. Like that whole anti-terroristm campaign, "if you see something, say something." 

Specifically, if I see anyone giving my daughter shit for her Superman costume or my son shit for his Elsa costume, I am going to BLAST THAT SHIT TO HIGH HEAVEN ON THE INTERNET, MOTHERFUCKAHHHHZZZZ! It will be all over Facebook and everyone from Slate to the Huffington Post will have at least three long-form stories about this happening and what everyone involved did and said. 

And then I will feel like I'm in Black Mirror or the Matrix, because I will be doing the exact same thing by unloading on the internet, and waiting for the world to spread it around.

In the meantime, I'll say it again for good measure: Happy Hallo-I-Put-My-Kid-in-a-Gender-Nonconforming Costume-and-an-Asshole-Made-a-Big-Deal-Out-of-It-and-I-Turned-Those-Conformist-Lemons-Into-Viral-Content-Lemonade-Ween!

Australia's "Stoner Sloth" Anti-Marijuana PSA is the Best Thing You Will See All Day (Video)

I didn't think anti-drug PSA's could get any funnier or less effective than the Nancy Reagan-era fried egg "this is your brain on drugs," or that ad of the same time period where a kid tells a supposed drug dealer "I'm not a chicken, you're a turkey!" thereby putting the drug dealer in his place.

But it's 2015, and Australia has proven me wrong by bringing its Land Down Under A-game to the gateway drug. By all accounts, "Stoner Sloth" is real, with the Huffington Post calling it "peak anti-marijuana absurdity." It's also a bit of false advertising, because its tagline is "You're Worse on Weed." For a lot of people I know, that's a total lie. Frankly, lots of people I know are much, MUCH better on weed.

Fair warning: this PSA is funnier stoned (or so I'm told). But stoned or not, you need to watch it on YouTube in all it's glory to fully appreciate that Australia is trying to keep kids from taking the pot by suggesting that ripping a few tubes to deal with your parents at dinner renders you unable to use a salt shaker. 

This is two minutes of your life you'll never get back, but you will thank me for it anyway. 

After you watch this, you will undoubtedly have many, many questions. And one of them will probably be why Australia didn't choose a less adorable indigenous mammal--like maybe a platypus--to be the wasted mascot for this anti-weed campaign?

Because I kind of feel like this PSA has literally the EXACT opposite effect it's supposed to have, and that every single person who sees it will IMMEDIATELY want to load a bowl with a fistful of dank kind buds.

Nice work, Oz. Next up: Meth Koala and Coke Kangaroo.

Attention Lazy Parents: Whatever You Do, Don't Let Your Kids "Lose Their Educational Edge" This Summer

According to this educational parenting piece by Dr. Gail Gross in The Huffington Post, you should spend your summer making sure that your kids don't "lose their educational edge," otherwise you're the world's shittiest parent.

Now is not the time for your first grader to wander aimlessly through the woods, picking wildflowers, blowing bubbles, and catching frogs like some hillbilly redneck. These ten weeks are when you must remain vigilant, lest your children fail to reach their full potential as a captain of industry or the next Atul Gawande or Mark Zuckerberg. 

Accordingly, here is O.H.M.'s take on Dr. Gross' 8 ways to ensure your kids stay and/or become child prodigies this summer:

1. Visit your local library. As Dr. Gross says, "A family trip to the library is a wonderful source for many activities." Go to the magazine section and find that one issue of U.S. News and World Report with the college rankings. Make your child read them all to you out loud from top to bottom. Tell them that if they don't get their act together NOW, they're going to end up on acid at Bard, and that in THIS family, we are pre-med at Yale.

2. Encourage your children to connect with other children: Dr. Gross tells you to get your kid a pen pal or a book club as a "fabulous way of engaging your children in reading and writing." Don't expose them to actual living children who could throw them off their game, be a bad influence, or otherwise lead them astray. If you can, find a pen pal in Africa or India so your kid has something profound and cross-cultural to write about on their college admissions essay.

3. Cook with your children: Cooking is a good way to learn about fractions, measurements, and world cuisine. Don't just slap together a plate of nachos for fuck's sake. Take out a Julia Child cookbook and force your kids to make beef bourguignon from scratch. Yell at them and tell them that if they scald the shallots, they'll never eat lunch in Paris again.

4. Get into the act with the whole family: Dr. Gross suggests putting on musicals and family plays. Write a script about what happens to little girls and boys who don't practice their times tables and go skip rocks in a creek instead. The final act should end with your kids behind the bathroom at your local gas station, dispensing blow jobs to support their meth habit as twenty-somethings who failed to listen to their parents.

5. Spell F-U-N with family game nights: Monopoly and Life are great board games for teaching family values like becoming a real estate baron. Mix things up with a round of Hungry Hungry Hippos. When they win, smack them upside the head and tell them that no one likes a pig at a cocktail party.

6. Teach about money, stocks, and bonds: Use the newspaper, says Dr. Gross, as a teaching tool. Get out the business section of the Wall Street Journal. Ask the kids to make a collage of everyone in it and then glue it to their bedroom ceiling. Put glow-in-the-dark stars around the border of the collage so that the eerie glow of Donald Trump's face is the last thing they see when they fall asleep at night.

7. Make the most of family vacations: Dr. Gross wants you to visit places like Valley Forge or the Liberty Bell so that your kids learn about history. Drag your kid on a cross-country tour of every boring historical site you can possibly think of. When they ask to go to Hershey Park instead, grab their arm really hard, squeeze it, and hiss in a rageful whisper that roller coasters are for proletariats.

8. Play tourist in your hometown: And you don't have to travel far or spend a lot of money, says Dr. Gross! Visit the sketchiest trailer park you can find, and drop your kids off there for five hours. If they're still alive after that, tell them that this is where you'll bring them the next time they refuse to do trigonometry problems before bedtime in July.

I Will Not Rest Until the Whole Entire Internet Agrees With Me!, by Bro Who Needs the Whole Entire Internet to Agree With Him

Ever since I could read and write at the age of three--up to and including my recent graduation from Stanford B-school--I have worked tirelessly toward a single, laudable goal: 

To make the Whole Entire Internet agree with me.

From trivial debates like whether it’s okay to pee in the shower, does cilantro really taste bad or is it all in your head, or should you even bother with flat sheets; all the way on up to the important issues of our day like whitesplaining #BlackLivesMatter and immigration reform to mansplaining Hillary Clinton, climate change, and why Antonin Scalia was actually a cool bro, I will not rest until the Whole Entire Internet agrees with me.

I will spend all day every day if I have to—and I do—scrolling through Twitter and Facebook and perusing the comments sections of CNN, Vice News, Talking Points Memo, Gawker, Slate, Salon, Huffington Post, NYT, Deadspin, and any other online publication with a comments section, so that I may use said comments section as a turnkey bully pulpit for my half-baked arguments, thus furthering my noble goal of making the Whole Entire Internet agree with me about something.

And not just something. Everything.

Moms: is it safe to vaccinate your child? (I have a firm opinion on this topic, despite not being a mom myself). Why are there so many homeless people in San Francisco? (I do not enjoy seeing homeless people on my way to work at my tech startup, and feel the city should address the eyesore). It that chocolate bar you're eating really bean-to-bar, or is it a fraud? (Ferreting out fraud in both the artisanal chocolate bar-making and craft beer communities is one of my core concerns).

I will banter back and forth until the Whole Entire Internet grows tired of me, capitulates and concedes my point, or otherwise gives firm indication of my rectitude. I will outlast any troll and bombard with specious "facts" anyone who fails to concur with whatever point I am trying to make, be it big or small.

Because when it comes to sheets, cilantro, climate change, moms, vaccines, black people, homelessness, and artisanal chocolate bars, there can be only one right answer, and only I have it. Yes, it's a difficult, thankless job, but someone has to do it. Bear witness! For today I say to you truly: 

I will not rest until the Whole Entire Internet agrees with me.

Critical Questions of the Day

This is so easy, it's actually sad. I have just discovered what I think must become another recurring feature on O.H.M. 

Now presenting ... Critical Questions of the Day, as gathered from today’s finest news sources. Stories like this are proof positive that there is a mass conspiracy underway. The corporate-government-agro-industrial-politico-media complex clearly wants to satiate the masses like the mindless sheep we are, and make us all forget how shitty the world is. 

I barely had to skim the homepage of each of these sites for these gems. This is too fucking easy! The jokes write themselves.

From People Magazine

• Did Lea Michele Chop Her Hair Into a Bob?
• Jessica Chastain and Her Ever-Changing Hair Length: Which Are You Loving?
• Is Anne Hatahway Secret Twins With Amal Clooney?
• Will American Sniper Chris Kyle’s Family Have to Pay Jesse Ventura $1.3 Million?

From Slate

• Will the Patriots Be Disqualified From the Super Bowl?
• Can I Go to a Bar Alone Without Being a Creep?
• Can You Find the German Snipers and Experts in Camouflage Hiding in These Photos?
• When Did We Start Asking Every Celebrity, “Are You a Feminist?”
• Why Do So Few Lawyers Bring So Many of the Supreme Court Cases?

From The Huffington Post

• CHEATING AGAIN?
• Like Eating Salad? We Have Some Bad News for You
• Exploding Kittens?!
• Are You Really Happy?

From The New York Times

• Can Capitalists Save Capitalism?
• Was Joni Ernst’s State of the Union Rebuttal Conciliatory, or Just More of the Same?

From The New Yorker

• What’s Behind the Rise of the “Fast-Casual” Restaurant?
• What Does Obama Think He’s Won?

From CNN

• How Should NFL Punish the Patriots?
• O.J. Simpson Trial: Where Are they Now?
• Who Wore it Better? Michelle Obama or “The Good Wife?”
• Can Office Dogs Reduce Stress?
• Can You Predict the Oscar Winners?
• Which YouTube Stars Will Interview Obama?
• What’s The #1 Hotel in NYC?
• Oldest Gospel Found in a Mummy Mask?