By: Allison Norris

I am sitting on the couch ready to go to bed, but the thought of actually getting up, brushing my teeth, washing my face and putting in my night guard keeps me sitting here. My leggings are cinched at the ankles making them really (cute) hard to get off, too. And where is my tank top with the built-in breast pads? I think it’s dirty. Crap. I’ll have to rig something up to absorb my leakage that oftentimes leaves me soaked in the wee hours of the morning. I’d rather doze on the couch for a bit while a completely mind numbing program is blaring in the background instead of getting up to get the rest that I complain about not having every day. This sort of craziness is easily justified while seriously sleep deprived.

I had my friend over last night and had nothing to talk about… or contribute, rather. She is dating a new guy and had that twinkle in her eye… that feeling that he could call at any minute and that they could talk about nothing, but it would be amazing. He’s met a few of her friends, and he’s told her that he likes her and although they haven’t had any talks about exclusivity, they are definitely seeing each other quite a bit! This friend of mine hasn’t had a boyfriend in almost a year and has sort of floated around keeping her options open. Every night is a possibility for Mr. Right! I listened to her last night and found myself envious of her butterflies. I remembered the mornings that you shave your legs in the shower because you know you’ll be seeing him later. Now I’m lucky if I shave my legs once a month. And who cares if I shave them at all? Baylor? Nah… he likes me just the way that I am.

I woke up this morning sort of yearning for that excitement. And then I talked to Jen. My best buddy was dating a guy for about a month until she realized that he wasn’t for her and she let him swim off into that big pond… or sea… or whatever. Of course, she is the crazy one and he tells me so in a facebook message. That’s right, he wrote me a message, here in Seattle, about why Jen dumped him. I’ve never met the guy! He said that he was worried about her. Worried that she may not know that not everyone is perfect and that one day, she will realize that even the man that she deems worthy of her time may actually have a flaw, but to not let that flaw ruin her life because he could be the man of her dreams! OH! Thanks for the enlightening bud. Where is your crystal ball? So nice of him to make sure she knew that she will never be completely happy. So settle? So thoughtful.

I was shopping today when I ran into a friend who is having trouble with her boyfriend. Her boyfriend seems to have a wandering eye… or thumbs, as he has been a sexter texter with other ladies, and we aren’t sure what else. She caught him, confronted him, and is giving him another chance. I think my favorite part was when he asked her “ok, so I messed up. What do I need to do now to get us back to where we were?” It was as though there were an equation or a planned process that they needed to follow and POOF they would be back to where they were – happy. Everything forgiven, but not forgotten. It’s just not that easy.

Back to being sleep deprived and missing butterflies… it’s not so bad. Right when I start to wonder if I can survive another day of poop and puke, I am reminded that I’ve got it made. No weirdos with a hypothesized vision of my love life and no sexters with a need to have a harem of women in their inbox. I have a perfect man who laughs at everything that I say and never wants to leave my side! I guess it’s my job to develop my little man into a grown man who is emotionally stable, successful, handsome, polite, honest, funny, kind, loyal and faithful…. and on and on.

Should be a piece of cake… I am his mom, aren’t I?

And now it’s time for bed.

By: Nina Roux

I’m an opinionated snob. I own this. As a New Yorker, I can be quite pushy. I think we city folk hone this skill because we are jealously protecting the tiny amount of personal space we are allotted. So, when the opinionated, snobby pushy beast rears its head, it’s hard to hold back the hounds. I recently decided that this same trait, when possessed by someone who holds the opposite views from mine, makes them a bigot.
I got into a Facebook fight with some dude I went to college with, I don’t really know him, and he definitely doesn’t know me. But like most of my Facebook “friends”, we have casually (and probably pointlessly) become connected again.
It all started with the vapid comments made by former Miss. California, Carrie Prejean, when asked about her thoughts on the legality of same-sex marriage.
The status bar on my Facebook page was something like; “anyone who says they believe something just because they were raised to believe it, is basically saying they don’t have any thoughts of their own”. There may or may not have been the word “jaggoff” somewhere in there.
I guess I assumed I was preaching to the choir, safe in my smug liberal, coastal bubble. I wasn’t thinking about this dude and he didn’t find my snarky (okay, mean-spirited) commentary amusing. The problem was that in his response, he used condescending language like “now, now” and “I hate it when you lefties…” The Opinionated New York Foul-Mouthed Snob Hounds would not drop the bone, and along with my husband and 3 or 4 friends, we let this dude have it.
I should mention that I am Buddhist. One common misconception about Buddhists is that we are passive. There is in fact nothing more “Buddhist” than standing up with the courage of a lion in defense of what is right
Here’s why their “right” is wrong: my husband and I could not be legally married if people had continued to believe something simply because they were taught to. My African American husband’s grandparents would have been slaves, like their parents were. His parents wouldn’t have been able to vote or to drink from the same drinking fountains as mine. As a woman I would not be able to vote. I would not be sitting in a window office. Hell, I would be at home with 12 children, wearing an ankle-length skirt, with no electricity if our parents’ parents’ parents had held rigidly to their ideas of the “right” way to live. If previous generations were afraid of change and the evolution of ideas and human rights, white folks wouldn’t be on this continent.
Just as our generation was pivotal in electing the first African American president, we will also be responsible for ending bigotry and hatred, just as every generation before us and every generation after. It is OUR fight as human beings. The face of bigotry changes, just like the faces of the oppressed. But it is a fight, and it will require our whole heart, and the courage of a lion and the voices of the hounds of hellish functions like this opinionated, foul-mouthed, pushy snob. As a straight, married woman, to believe that I myself don’t have to worry about whether or not my gay friends should be allowed to marry, is just lazy. We can’t get anything done by thinking “that’s someone else’s fight”. Ending bigotry and fear of what we don’t understand is every compassionate individual’s fight. And the weapons and armor in this fight are intellect, education and maybe a little bit of snobbery. But for what it’s worth, for my part, I am working on the latter.