One of the things I’ve learned, over my many years of roadtripping in and across Texas, is that hell is being stuck going 50 miles per hour behind a recreational vehicle. But recently, I’ve come to wonder if heaven might be being behind the wheel of one.
I don’t generally dream about buying big-ticket things like cars and houses. I’m a freelance writer, after all. At this point, saving even a few hundred dollars a year is a struggle — though that got significantly less stressful once I moved in with, and later married, my husband. Splitting rent and groceries and bills has taken significant pressure off my wheezing bank account — even more so than living with roommates.
So maybe that’s why I started letting myself fantasize about taking long trips to Marfa in a giant vehicle with a wildcat or a wolf emblazoned on the back. When I proposed this to Patrick, he was, as we say here in Texas, “raring to go.” Some couples dream of outfitting a nursery. Patrick and I dream of converting an engine to biodiesel and training the cats to ride shotgun. Keep reading »
The world’s saddest person has finally crawled out from under the sad bajillions of dollars she’s made over the years, clawed her way through the sad memories of the last decade of middlingly famous, questionably talented dudes who’ve rejected her and her sad self and at last trapped a man into filling the hole in her sad, professionally successful, by all accounts non-substance-abusive, award-winning, generally talented and supported by nice ladyfriends heart!
In the popular imagination, here is the hierarchy of sadness as I have come to understand it, from not at all sad to the most sad thing anyone can think of, ever: single men, latter-days Charlie Sheen, Olympic silver medal winners, adorable kittens in compromising positions, married men, victims of violent crime and/or systematic injustice and oppression, single women, divorced women, Jennifer Aniston. Keep reading »
Last week, an interracial couple showed up for their wedding cake tasting at a small, family owned bakery in Colorado. But when the shop owner caught sight of the together-for-two-years pair, he turned them away because he doesn’t believe interracial couples should get married.
In a statement to the local television station, Jack Phillips, the owner of the Masterpiece Cake Shop in Lakewood, Colorado, said he and his family believe so strongly that blacks and whites should not marry that “we would close down the bakery before we would compromise our beliefs.”
Phillips has been overwhelmed by community support for his stance. After the interracial couple complained to media of the bakery’s refusal, Phillips says he had “about twice as much business as normal,” with Coloradans coming out in droves to buy sweets from a man who believes marriage should be reserved only for people who are the same race as their partners.
Weird, right, that in 2012, people would be so proud to support such a clearly racist business? Well, I’ve fudged some details: the couple that wanted to buy a cake from the Masterpiece Cake Shop isn’t interracial. They’re gay. Keep reading »
The Democratic Party is set to officially incorporate a pro-gay marriage stance into its 2012 convention platform after a 15-member draft committee approved the new pro-marriage equality language over the weekend.
Much like the reaction to President Barack Obama’s recent (supposedly) conversion to pro-gay marriageness, reasonable people are saying: Hooray!
And also duh. And also about time.
The thing is, I don’t think you have to be a Democrat — or young — to appreciate the fact that civil rights for all people are a good thing. Maybe I’ve spent too much time reading Yo! Is This Racist? but I am both young and a Democrat and my patience wears ever thinner for people who can’t get with the fucking program on not being hate-mongering idiots. Keep reading »
You know how the worst kind of parent will be all, “Oh, you couldn’t possibly understand what it means to truly love another human being until you have a child of your own?” And you are all, Oh word, you’re right, I must be the emotionally crippled jerk here because I don’t go around conducting unsolicited evaluations of other people’s personal lives? And then you order another pitcher all to yourself just to rub in the fact that you and your emotionally stunted self are going to stay until bar closes just because you can?
Now that I am an old married lady, I think I understand that awful parent a little bit better, even though the Texas Alcohol and Beverage Commission still occasionally has to pry that pitcher of beer from my cold, drunk hands. Not because I’m aiming for a Lil’ Grimes any time soon or ever, but because I’m amazed at how different—and touchy, and protective—I feel about partnership now that I’m in a legal one. Keep reading »
In a couple of weeks, I’m going to be living it up in beautiful South Dakota. The occasion: my new grandma-in-law’s octogenarian birthday and combination family reunion. I hear there will be picnics and jet skis involved.
I am petrified.
But Andrea, how can you be petrified when there are jet skis involved, you ask? Well first off, I’m afraid of watercraft, so there’s that. But there’s also the fact that these jet skis belong to my new-in-law family, and what am I supposed to do around these perfectly nice, terrifying people for three whole days in beautiful rural South Dakota? Also, “beautiful rural South Dakota” is a few kinds of redundant, right? Keep reading »