Wednesday, February 08, 2006

Stereotype of a Cliche

So do you ever have those moments where you realize that you are a cliché of yourself?

Like when you’re sitting in your office in the quilt shop where you are the youngest employee, listening to Slayer, while wearing your standard uniform of all black, with your big motorcycle boots…the ones with all the superfluous zippers and little bits of metal on them, that tend to snag on your yarn if you are not careful.

And when one of your co-workers daughters comes in to chat and after looking around your office she says “So I can see that you like pirates, do you have “Pirates of the Caribbean?” and you get a big kick out of telling her that you don’t have a television, watching her eyes bug out at the insanity of it all.

And when you leave your pencils lying around the office and your co-workers bring them back to you because who else would have black pencils with skull and crossbones on them?

And when your friend invites you to go to a knitting guild meeting, and you just bring whatever project you’re currently working on without realizing that of course they will ask you what you’re knitting, and then you’ll have to hold it up and show them the big ass flame red skull on the back and say sheepishly “it’s my first intarsia project.”

And when the proprietor of the local yarn shop hasn’t seen you in awhile and says “You should come in, I’ve been dying lots of black and red yarn lately.”

But here’s the thing. I like black. It simplifies my life. I don’t have to spend 2 hours shopping for clothes because I don’t have to look at anything that’s not black (or grey, or sometimes even red, I’m colorful in my way). I like skulls and flames and hardcore music…and as far as jobs go, purchasing for quilt shops is pretty decent, and if my co-workers think I’m a big kook well, they don’t bother me and I don’t bother them. So if I’m a big old stereotype then fine, I can deal with being a stereotype. I’m happy being a stereotype. I like it. So there.

And in other news, that link that Atla posted yesterday is crazy! The make your own church sign part of the website is entertaining…and the “real” church sign part of the website is down right terrifying. Some of them are cute, “are you crunk on Jesus?” for example…some of them are really offensive, “AIDS cures sodomy” for instance. Yikes.

And as long as I’m posting links to interesting websites, this is the most entertaining thing that I’ve found on the web lately. At first glance it appears to be a fairly regular calorie counter, you put in your pace and the distance you travel and it tells you how many calories you’ve burned. This one has an extra window at the bottom though, that tells you what you get to eat after having burned that many calories…observe.

I run at about 5 miles an hour, that’s 12 minute miles (say something about how slow I run, I dare you!), and I can keep it up for about ½ an hour, which according to the handy dandy calorie counter means I’ve burned 345 calories. This is what I “get” to eat when I’m done.

1 lb asparagus, a potato, 8 after-dinner mints (yer pee will smell funny, but yer breath will be minty fresh)

or

1 oz of lard, 1 cup Cinnamon Marshmallow Scoobie Doo Cereal (I prefer soymilk on my cereal…but I’ll try anything once)

Of course when I told the Manimal about it he wanted to know what he would get to eat after running 50 miles. He completed the race last year in under 10 hours so we will say 12 minute miles for him too (that’s disgusting by the way, I’m completely plastered after 3 miles), total calorie burn of 6900 (damn!). Manimal gets to eat:

1/4 cup of regular M&M's, 8 after-dinner mints, two cans Chili Mac, 1/2 cup sunflower seeds, 1/2 of a Marie Calendar Dutch Apple pie, a slice of Oscar Meyer bologna, 1/4 cup of salted peanuts, 1 cup of potato salad, 1/4 pint of Ben & Jerry's Chunky Monkey, 2 lb of lettuce, 9 potatoes, 2 large cucumbers, 2 cups of rutabagas, 2 cups of brussels sprouts, 6 oz bean sprouts, 2 tsp mustard, 3 Fig Newton Cookies, a salmon steak broiled with butter, 8 Maple Leaf Chicken Nuggets, 1/4 of a 17-oz Sara Lee Cheesecake, a 6-oz bag of potato chips (9 potatos but only 3 Fig Newtons).

Amuse yourselves.
Ragnar!

PS did you notice I learned how to use my "link" button?
PPS me not so much html literate...any of you pro-bloggers out there want to help me out with stuff I'd appreciate the help.

8 comments:

Will Pillage For Yarn said...

I join you in the cliche. Maybe a slightly different cliche, but one nonetheless. I like black too. Black means I don't have to bother with thinking about my clothes too hard. Wearing my Docs with everything means I have happy feet. Speaking of happy feet, I knit very colorful socks. Also, khaki green goes just fine with black so I'm not totally stuck in a rut.

The other moms look at me funny. I take my kids to antiwar protests and teach them to recycle and buy organic fair trade foods. I am raising little individuals who stand out as different and they get looked at funny too. I'm the only mom I know who doesn't really care that her kid wears boots, has multicolored dreads and is passionate about punk. Because to me, that's just.... window dressing, it's who she is on the surface and I'm more concerned with who I'm raising on the inside, you know?

There's always that fear of being one of those moms who doesn't dress her age and that's the cliche I fear the most but dammit, why do I have to change what makes me happy just because I'm 36? I've been dressing this way for a hell of a lot longer than I've had kids. Why am I doomed to SUVs, mom jeans and *shudder* new spring colors just because I happened to give birth? Fuck that, sez I. Bring on the black and the eyeliner, scream that industrial or the wilty flower music, give me skulls and stompy boots and interesting hair and NEVER ever let me give it up because I'm "too old" but rather, let me evolve gracefully into whatever is coming next.

SO what I mean to say is, Damn Skippy. It may be a cliche but if you're living your cliche and you're happy, then rock on. World needs us just as much as anyone else.

adrien-alice said...

just because enough people have seen the wisdom of your convictions to create a cultural cliche...I mean, doesn't that just suggest maybe you have something going on that works? (I realize this means I've got to accept the screaming gays and the soccer moms and the nascar dads, but I'm kind of ready for that. I'm 30 now, you know).

Ragnar said...

Yeah, us 30+ chicks can all hang out and polish our boots together.

My biggest fear in motherhood is that Rat Girl will start to feel pressure to be not her finky little self anymore...although I think she'll be okay. I haven't indulged in a good rat-girl story for awhile so...

A friend left his digital camera over at my house awhile ago and I was going to take pictures of armpits and fill up his memory card with armpit pictures before I gave it back to him, and rat girl says "take a picture of my hairy armpit!" Rat girl is 8 by the way, and we all laughed and said "You don't have hairy armpits rat-girl." "Yes I do! I have armpit fuzz!" So we got out the magnifying glass and sure enough that girl has armpit fuzz...and she's all psyched about it! Luv that rat.

Power to the real moms I say! I'm with ya Pillage, we're gonna raise an army of little (gasp) people, and they're gonna take over the world.

Hey, and it takes a pirate to pillage a village.

Atla said...

I wrote this really long response about who I am, then decided I had come to absolutely no conclusion and it was just pointless rambling, so I erased it.

Inky said...

I'm all for the cliche. It means people buy me cool things with skulls and skeletons all the time "because I saw this and immediately thought of you!"

Colleeeeeeeeeen said...

ewww Asparagus, I'm never excercising again if that's what you have to eat when your done! I think it's a conspiracy by the Asparagus council and cliff bars- type in any number! That's all you ever get to eat

Wyliee said...

ewww Asparagus, I'm never excercising again if that's what you have to eat when your done! I think that link is a conspiracy by the Asparagus council and cliff bars- type in any number! That's all you ever get to eat.

Caroline in NH said...

I saw a T-shirt that I almost got for my 13 yr old DD (would have been perfect for my now 23-yr old son when he was in high school) - it said, "I'm only wearing black until they make something darker." LOL!