Finding the motivation to send a proper thank you note is almost impossible–unless I have a stack of beautiful thank you notes sitting on my desk, in which case I’m so excited to use them that I start thanking everyone for everything. Thank you, 5th grade teacher, for believing in me! Thank you, best friend, for being my best friend! And so on and so forth. Now I want to buy a pack of these gorgeous flowery postcards, and send one to the artist to thank her for designing them. [$10 for 10 cards, Rifle Paper Co.]
This morning on the subway, I overheard two men cattily complaining that it grosses them out when women put their makeup on in public. As someone who recently became one of those women, it made me want to whip out an eyelash curler and inflict some acute torture on them both.
Why does this bother people so much? Slate’s Dear Prudence is against public nose-powdering: “you are engaged in private activities they’d rather not be witness to.” A Japanese subway system once campaigned against it: “Please do it at home.”
Or, as the men on my train put it, “I don’t wanna see that shit.” But what “shit,” exactly, are we talking about? Is the acting of applying makeup really so gross? Is it impolite to destroy the fantasy that all women wake up with dark black lashes, rosy-cheeked complexions, no red veins around our noses, and perfectly arched brows? Read more…
Update: 4p.m. Well, that was quick. State Senator
Mary Marty Golden’s website has canceled the event. I guess you’ll have to learn your feminine wiles elsewhere. [New York Observer]
Please tell me this is a joke. This is a joke, right?
The office of a Republican politician in Brooklyn, New York, will be offering a class for women in his district about “Posture, Deportment, and Feminine Presence.” Ostensibly this is a career development event about etiquette, but the packaging is really, really WTF. Keep reading »
On Friday night, I had an online date that really fizzled. Everything was going just fine over chips and guac until he majorly stuck his foot in his mouth. He started talking about his ex-girlfriends (always a red flag!) and mentioned that several were depressed. He ended up giving much more than he got back in these relationships, he said. Women with depression are way too needy. He won’t date one again.
Well then, I thought to myself. I guess we should just get the check! I tried to be polite about what he was telling me. I suggested perhaps women with depression are attractive to him in some way, seeing how the pattern has repeated itself many times. I said that people with mental illness need to take care of themselves first, not be taken care of by anyone else, and maybe he might want to look into why he dates women who turn out to be “needy.” And then when I shared with him that I, actually, have had depression for years, he got very uncomfortable and embarrassed. Keep reading »
All I wanted to do on Sunday was get a mani/pedi so my nails didn’t look so chipped and busted. Kicking back with a crinkled copy of Allure while Top 40 radio blares overhead is the closet thing modern women have to bliss. But instead of being a zen experience, my local nail salon was railroaded by a horribly rude woman causing drama. Rude Woman apparently needed to have ONLY non-scented lotion used on her skin. Yet, despite it apparently being so important, she didn’t bring any of her own along with her.
Instead, Rude Woman got really snotty with all the employees about whether their lotion was scented or non-scented; she repeatedly talked down to them about whether they had it and why they didn’t. The way Rude Woman was talking — loud, accusatory — seemed to imply these nail salon folks either didn’t understand a lick of English (not true) or were intentionally trying to ruin her day. Other customers and I kept making eye contact during her repeated rants, like, “Can you believe this woman?”
Look. I’m sympathetic to her frustration, sort of. A lot of nail salons will say anything to you to get you to use their services — my favorite is saying it will just be a five minute wait when it is really more like 20. But Rude Woman was just plain condescending. I was embarrassed for her. I was embarrassed for the employees.
So, Rude Woman, I hope you don’t read The Frisky. But just in case you do, I’ve penned a handy, dandy guide about how not to be awful at the nail salon. Keep reading »