From the monthly archives:

October 2008

Douche Cap

by Marinka on October 30, 2008

I wear a shower cap, do you?

You’ll be surprised how many perfectly normal looking people forego the shower cap, so you can’t always tell by appearances. Unless you sneak into the shower with the perfectly normal looking person, but that could be awkward.  But the next time you’re in a crowded elevator, or in the subway, or waiting on death row, look around you and ask–who among the people that you see has the moral fortitude to wear a shower cap and not get their hair wet every time they take a shower? By the way, if you decide to ask this question out loud, it may help to be naked and holding an open bottle of vodka, to get into character.

In recent years I’ve had my share of shower caps that have come to a tragic end.  A few were thrown in the laundry and since they are made of some kind of plastic, for some reason they melted.  A few were stolen. I mean, lost.  Many were mocked by shower cap foes.  It’s hard to maintain shower cap harmony.
My most recent shower cap has undergone something incomprehensible.  For no apparent reason, the elastic has started loosening at at unprecedented rate and the shower cap has gotten enormous.  Why is this happening?  And why is neither candidate addressing this?


I Was A Teenage Vegetarian

by Marinka on October 29, 2008

As parents, we have hopes for our children. They span from the most basic–let my child be healthy and safe and happy, to the more specific–let them be employed and marry someone who I can stand, and if at all possible, no French pedicures. But lately, I’ve been obsessing about a different type of hope.

Dear Lord, please do not let my kids go through a vegetarian stage. Amen.

I have absolutely nothing against vegetarians. I am of the “eat and let eat” school of thought. But I cannot stomach the idea of a child, particularly a teenager, who decides that she wants to be a vegetarian.  Or more specifically, who becomes a vegetarian and then tells everyone why. (By the way, my daughter has been known to approach a grazing cow and take a bite out of her side, so I doubt that she is in immediate danger of vegetarianism, but still, as a mother, I worry.) The reason I fear this is that I was a teenage vegetarian, and wow, was I ever a pain in the ass.

I decided that I wanted to be a vegetarian after a Gandhi-like experience of finding a vein in my chicken. “WHAT IS THAT?” I said after I was revived from a fainting spell.
“Iz vein,” my mother said. “You don’t haf to eat, but you haf to zit down and stop making faze. Faze can freeze.” (Ok, I know I’m making my mother’s accent sound more German and Russian, but you try doing the Russian accent. On your own blog.)

Right then and there, I became a convert.

“I think I’ll have a cucumber instead.” I announced.

My already-hip-to-vegetarianism friends preyed on me.

“Meat is murder!” “Why should an animal have to die so that we can eat?” “Haven’t you ever noticed how we have to disguise the meat we eat with ketchup and mustard to mask that we are eating flesh?!”

So, in order to blend in with the semi-cool vegetarian kids, I became a zealot.

“Nice of you to serve me a dead animal,” I’d comment at dinner-time.

“Why do others have to die so that you can have bacon and eggs?” I’d initiate a breakfast-time discussion.

“Because it’s delicious,” my father chewed.

“You know what’s delicious? This beet. And the knowledge that no one had to die for it. But that’s me, I guess I’m just not comfortable with murder,” I would reposition myself on the cross, while simultaneously adjusting my halo.  

This went on forever. I rebuffed my parents’ attempts of reasoning with me–everything from the nutritional value of protein (“you know what else is loaded with protein? SPERM! And yet, I don’t see you suggesting that I become the school’s fellatio queen!”) to their sneaking suspicion that I was more of a dessertarian than a vegetarian (“I need to get my calcium somehow and no innocent life had to be cut short for this ice cream!”)

My parents put up with it all with good humor and indulged me. They didn’t even harp on the fact that I was basically freebasing pate and that it could possibly be at odds with my vegetarianist zen.

It lasted for years. Until I went to college. Until I went to a Pro-Choice march in DC. Where carrying a hanger, I became so ravenous that I grabbed the first hot dog I saw and then ate another one of its brothers.

And although during my vegetarian rant my parents never once said, “just wait until you have a lunatic child of your own!”, they totally should have. Because believe me, I certainly have a few drafts of that speech written for my kids.


Wordful Wednesday

October 28, 2008

I panic easily.  A few times each week when I get out of the subway and look down Fifth Avenue, I become very concerned.  Because the Empire State Building is missing.  And apparently, I am the only one who notices, because everyone else is going about their business like nothing is wrong.  This is way […]

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Stroke Me Tender

October 27, 2008

Disclaimer:  I have a fucked up sense of humor. In no way am I mocking people who suffer from heart disease. I am mocking my own hypochondria. Lovingly. I don’t want to alarm you, but Oprah and I are having some issues. For example, I was enjoying the October O (the magazine, not a monthly […]

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How I Survive Subway Rides

October 26, 2008

Ok, so I already terrorized you with my subway fears, so now I thought I’d make up with some subway joys.  The key to a wonderful subway experience in NYC is to make sure that my friend John is with you.  If you are visiting New York City, he is available to escort you on […]

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11 Years of Happiness

October 26, 2008

Yesterday Husbandrinka and I celebrated our eleventh wedding anniversary. I celebrated by getting a new zit on the side of my nose, which, incidentally, is my least favorite place to get a facial zit.  Then I continued the celebration by announcing that I wasn’t feeling well and going to bed and he extended the merriment […]

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And Also, You Missed a Spot

October 25, 2008

A note from my daughter.

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Things I’ve Been Meaning To Tell You

October 23, 2008

Here are some important things that I’ve been meaning to tell you, none of which merits a post of their own. 1. My son has two loose teeth. I call them “Wigglies” and he calls them “Wigglers”. I told him that I will never call them Wigglers because Wigglies is the proper scientific term. He […]

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