24 January 2008

I want to tell a story

You KNEW there was more to the spider-bitten butt story than a simple paean to blogging, didn't you? Couldn't you just FEEL it? If you couldn't, dear reader, I'm disappointed in your Sueblog intuition skillz.

Yes. So. I got this spot on my butt. No big deal, everyone gets them, right? Wrong. This thing kept getting bigger and uglier and oh, the horror, the horror.

When I emailed Angela, my sister in all things bitey, it was about the size of a quarter. A big quarter. A big, ugly, red quarter. Which is really rather large for something you sit on all day, n'est pas?

She said her bite (that I forgot she had nicknamed Silas - oh, I love that woman) had gone away on its own.

Part of my issue with my own particular assbiteification was that I couldn't see it really well. It was on a part of my butt that sort of defied examination, being right back there and right down there, so if I twisted about in a yoga pretzel while looking in the mirror, I could get kind of a look but not the close exam I needed to see if I was to observe fang marks.

(Angela claimed you could not see fang marks, at which point I knew I had to make sure of that fact.)

One of the main hazards of being a single woman, besides having an alarming amount of space for lotions in the bathroom cabinet, is that you have no one to say "Hey, come look at this ugly thing on my butt for me!" to. Dang. I knew I was missing out on something.

So in a stroke of Suebobian genius, I decided that I could photograph my butt at high resolution and examine the photo at 300 percent to see the extent of the frightfest.

Of course.

This involved learning to use the timer feature on my camera, finding an appropriate spot, and taking about 40 photos that looked like something from the "casual encounters" section of Craigslist. Or a cellulite cream ad, more likely.

Yes, people of the Internet, this is how a lonely old spinster spends her evenings - photographing spider bites on her butt. You can stop envying my swinging single lifestyle now. The Love Boat...exciting and new...

I finally got a good enough shot to reassure me that I did not need to make a trip to the emergency room. Because you know if I did, the same place that usually has a staff that looks like a bunch of laid-off carnival workers would turn out to have the doctors from Gery's Anatomy on duty, just to all look at my nasty butt sore.

And you know, internets, YOU KNOW it took all my strength not to post it on my blog. I finally decided not to, because, as you can tell, I am trying to cultivate an aura of romance and mystery. How's that working?

23 January 2008

Blogging makes you lose your mind

It starts innocently enough. You think you'd like to share some photos and daily musings with family and friends.

Soon, you find other bloggers who make you howl with laughter. And they make you laugh hardest when they are spilling their darkest secrets. Stuff about boobs and getting happy on a treadmill and farts, so many farts and OMG suddenly it seems as if the world is one big hilarious truth-telling place.

So you tell a few of your own and you aren't hated and reviled. Instead, people love you more.

These people who comment stop being just friends in a box on your desk. You meet some of them in person, twitter others, correspond, call - and care.

Which is how, several years later, you find yourself feeling completely comfortable emailing someone you have never met because she blogged about having a spider bite and now you think you may have a spider bite gone bad. On your butt. And she is totally cool about it.

And then you think "Maybe I have lost my damn mind." But maybe you aren't losing. Maybe you are finding.

20 January 2008

Men weigh in? Please?

I wonder how many male readers I have. I certainly have very few male commenters.

Suzanne wrote a column on sexism and misogyny over at BlogHer and that, on top of last night's viewing of SuperBad, started me thinking about what it is to be a man.

When we talk about sexism, it is usually from a female perspective, but my belief is that a sexist system oppresses all people, not just women. Men aren't free to act how they want because to not "be a man" at all times garners them just as much scorn and consequence as a woman who doesn't know her place.

We were joking the other day at work and offered Matt $250 to walk into his gym wearing a headband รก la Jane Fonda, midriff top and Daisy Dukes. We were all laughing and I know Matt could use the money, but he refused and I don't even have to tell you why because you already know.

I have 5 questions for the men out there. If you aren't male, perhaps you could ask a man in your life or weigh in with your own opinion on how sexism affects men.

1. What do you like about being a man?
2. What don't you like?
3. How do you feel about being a man in our culture?
4. If you could magically make one thing better for men, what would it be?
5. What would you like women to know about being a man that you think they might be unaware of?

Thanks in advance for participating.
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