Sorry to Disappoint you

One of my favorite things to overhear:

"I just took this Women's Studies class, and like, OH MY GOD, it was the hardest thing I've ever done."

One of my favorite professors said to my Feminist Theories Class that Women's Studies should be just as hard as brain surgery. "Why," she said "do we associate the ultimate in mental rigor with brain science? We always hear 'well, it can't be that hard, you know, it's not brain surgery or anything!' My brother got a degree in medicine and is a brain surgeon....and that's lovely, but it took me two years longer to get my degree in Women's Studies."

This bolstered my enthusiasm for the major because, after all, it was true that the most difficult, dense reading I'd done had been for those classes. It was in these classes that I would fear getting B's.

What I also find fascinating about the major is that what goes on in a Women's Studies classroom appears to be an utter secret to those who have never actually sat through one whole lecture. In a History class we expect that, although we may not be there to see it, they must be teaching, well, you know: History. We think the same thing about Math and Literature and Astrophysics. But never in my life have I heard such tall tales as those told by people relaying what they are SURE must go on in a Women's Studies classroom. I've heard everything from man-hating pop quizzes to pagan rituals. I think that if these folks knew the truth, they would be profoundly disappointed. Not only do we NOT sacrifice babies to the Earth Mother or sit around and talk about how we would all just be so much happier as lesbians, we actually come prepared for discussion having read some of the most brilliant yet mind-bending articles ever written. We go home at night and have stress dreams about upcoming essay tests and cry with each other in study groups when no one understands how to apply the concept of intersectionality to the "So-and-so v. So-and-so" case of 1985. We loose points for not coming to class. Our papers are rife with red markings and 3-paragraph commentary at the bottom. We walk away from our computers after having written a paper on The Politics of Breastfeeding as though we are walking away from a brain surgery we ourselves have performed.

Just Saw...

Apsci

They opened with her singing opera and him beatboxing over it. I wanted more Italian and less screaming, but in the end they were lovely.

BLACKALICIOUS

Gift of Gab was like an adidas jacket-ed Buddha telling us to either be still or sing the alphabet with him. Astounding and wordful. Phil said "I think he just spoke more words than I do in a week." Gift of Gab indeed.

We are finally "to that place" in our marriage

While picking up fabric scraps from the bed:

T: "I always cut things on the bed."

P: "I know...I only cut one thing on the bed."

T: "......what?"

P: "The CHEEEEZE!!!"

Are your Saturday Nights THIS fun???

Are your Saturday Nights THIS fun???
Originally uploaded by tawnillia.

This is how we do it in the Bairdholt household. Why go out and party when you can stay in and put on blush???

Do it, I dare you

Tell me it's not about race. Do it.
Listen to first-hand accounts of Katrina survivors. And tell me.

All I Ever Wanted

tawny post-photoshoot.
Originally uploaded by th3ph17.

So, Allen was ummmm "browsing" this raunchy website and came upon this picture of me. Apparently they pull photos from flickr and compile them in one soft-core-porn-esque location. Classy.

Just Saw...

The Like

These girls were too cool for school. I mean that in the most adoring way possible. They wore mini skirts with gogo boots and sang with their eyes half closed. I'm in love.

The Ditty Bops

A joy. If they aren't shimmying on stage while playing a washboard, they're singing sultry songs from the 1930's underneath fedora hats. Our second time seeing them. Won't be the last.

Tori Amos

I don't have the vocabulary to say much other than Oh my fucking God, she is too good for this earth. A very intense, solo set. No drums, no guitar, just Tori and her piano. She was wearing (I'm almost ashamed to say I know this) a beautiful Prada dress and her hair was down to her waist and we all just sat there stunned. Highlight of the set: "I'm going to play this because this song has been blacklisted" and then she played Imagine and we all just wept.

The Perils of Prayerlessness

So, with all the destruction going on in the South, I've come upon a new predicament when it comes to letting people know you're hoping the best for them. On more than one occasion I have started to say "you're in our prayers" and stopped myself. I don't pray and don't want to lie and say I do, but what I do feels as strong and heart-felt as a prayer, but it's more like hoping...Do I say "you're in our hopes"? "You're in our thoughts" just seems to mediocre. I guess there's lots of ways to say it, I just feel like the pray-ers have a monopoly on exchanges of sympathy. What's an atheist to do?

I swear, I don't make this stuff up

These continuing and hopefully regular entries will henceforth be referred to as Philisms.

Spoken in reference to Dick Cheney and his... um, "ideas": "He probably masturbates to pictures of things dying."

In reference to a shirt I was wearing that has quickly become a family favorite: "Your, um, nipples, they are...well, they are making a line form across the shirt...It's like a clothesline...between your breasts...um, I just...well, I just like that."

In reference to an issue or matter that has completely escaped our memories: "I'm like real that hasn't been made yet."

One of my personal favorites: While we were both singing along to Frampton's "Ooooo, baby I love your way, everyday" I realized that Phil fancies the song a question-and-answer event that goes; "Ooooo baby I love you when?" at which point the person to whom the question is being asked answers, "everyday!" Even after correcting him, on more than one occasion he has said goodbye to me and just before I shut the door he says "Oooo baby I love you when?... and I always turn and humor him with a hearty "Everyday!" What can I say? We're keeping the fire burning.