Category Archives: oi vay

Beautiful Bruises

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WARNING: This post contains a woman’s yearly checkup, mentions of birth control, and shaving. While no graphic details are provided, those who use the letters “TMI” frequently might want to browse away. Oh, and I farted while writing this! :D


It’s getting to be close to that time where I have to make a doctors appointment to have my yearly checkup. If I don’t go, they’ll stop giving me my birth control prescription which will make me sick, sick, sick on a monthly basis. I’m a pretty healthy young woman who works out, doesn’t eat too much crap, doesn’t smoke, etc., so this should be a walk in the park, right?

Unfortunately, that’s not how my appointment last year went. I ended up not having an appointment with my regular doctor since I didn’t want to take a whole day off of work (everything in the morning was booked).

A little more than a month before my appointment is when I started training Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. Big surprise, I had more than a few bruises. This happened when I used to play paintball too. I didn’t think much of it before the appointment.

What I’m used to when I go to the doctor is they ask all about how you’re doing with big smiles and what’s going on in your life. They weigh you and listen to your heart. The uncomfortable parts are the down-there-doctoring they have to do, not the social part.

That appointment was awkward all around. I was asked a little about how things were going and I mentioned my new martial arts training which I was very excited about. I was already used to the, “What’s that? Like karate?” reaction, but I didn’t expect the disgust when I explained what it was. This woman might as well have told me to get in the kitchen and find a husband already with the looks she gave me and how little she wanted to hear about it. I don’t know if it was because it sounded scary, manly, or I told her that yes, I train with both men and women, etc. I also didn’t care. This was my doctors appointment. I didn’t expect to be judged on my choice of preferred sports.

Once the actual exam began, so did the questions about my bruises. I’ve already explained that I participate in a full contact grappling martial art, but apparently she was still surprised and confused as to why I had bruises. I reiterated what Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu was and even tried explaining what we’d been working on. I had a good idea of what moves some of the bruises were from. She went from disgust to not believing me. Apparently, if a woman has bruises, she’s being abused by someone and lying about it.

I mentioned that I could prove that I did the martial art if she cared. My membership card is on my key chain. She didn’t care. She didn’t even want to discuss it. She just went on to examine every single bruise and scribble on her notepad. I asked what she was doing, I was told she was ‘documenting’.

She was especially interested in a bruise I had on my chest. That was the obvious clincher someone was abusing me apparently. As I originally typed this, I had a bruise on my chest. No, I don’t know exactly how I got it. It could have been from someone putting on a tight near side armbar on me, with their legs tightly pressed down. It could have been from a too high knee on belly. It could have been from me trying to break someone posture when they were in my guard and them falling and pushing off of me with a hand, elbow, head, whatever. There are a lot of scenarios I can think of. I don’t know how it got there. It’s a bruise the size of a coin. Who cares?

I can’t imagine what women who are being abused go through when they go to the doctor. This woman was not being friendly, warm, or comforting. She came off as accusatory. I am aware that people who are abused in any way, shape, or form usually already think it’s somehow their own fault. With the amount of disgust she was giving off from the beginning, no woman would have felt comfortable admitting anything to her anyways.

I was disgusted and offended on all of those levels. I felt for every woman athlete and every abused woman. I came into the doctors expecting to have the first appointment without the vague questions about, “Well, are you happy with your weight?” since I was working out harder than I ever had in my entire life.

After we moved beyond the bruises, I was asked about my sex life. I am prescribed birth control, so okay, makes sense. I mentioned I was starting to see someone at that point which may or may not turn into something. Once again, no happy comments for me for something I thought was a good thing. I expected a ‘congrats’ or ‘good for you’. What I got was a lecture about condom usage and STDs. I’m sure my little file there said that I’d been on birth control since I was seventeen, not to mention my current age. If you don’t believe I use condoms, I can show you the ones I carry in my purse just in case… but then would she take that to mean I was promiscuous? I was done trying to win with this lady.

The ridiculousness reached a peak when I got a lecture about the razor burns on my bikini line. I have sensitive skin and have tried a lot of things not to get razor burn there and under my arms when shaving. The only thing I’ve found that works 100% is: not shaving. In this case, I’d shaved fairly recently which I’d think any doctor might be thankful for, but no… I was quizzed about why I was shaving so much down there. I just looked at her. Then was told to “be careful” and that I could give myself an infection, etc. I didn’t even get any good tips on how to prevent razor burn. So, thanks for nothing. I’ll just continue to use the shaving gel that claims it’s “Bumps Free!!” and Neosporin afterwards when I do shave…

So, this was a few months shy of a year ago. Since then I’ve been proud of every single bruise I’ve had. To me, it means I’m tough stuff. It’s a symbol that I’m working hard, that I’m not afraid, and that I am training with tough people who aren’t afraid to work hard with me. I’ve never had any injury from Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu that has been doctor-worthy. I don’t usually notice any new bruises until I take a shower later or someone points them out. I actually bruise less and less as time goes on. I think my body is just becoming tougher stuff, because I’ve done the opposite of slowing down.

If this is the reaction I get to some tiny bruises on my body, I can’t wait for a black eye. Bring it on. It’s sad that it doesn’t occur to me to be worried about injuries except with knowing the sexism I’ll have to deal with.

I’ll deal with pride and humor. Maybe I’ll make some Fight Club reference. I’m sure I’ll wear my smile and Gracie Barra t-shirt as accessories. I’m a real kind of woman, the kind that identifies as person first, then a woman. That makes some people uncomfortable. I don’t mind, but I still don’t want to have to deal with their discomfort. Stand aside. I have goals to achieve and fun to have. Guess what? I’ve run all out of bubble gum, and you know what that means…

I like playing Katamari Damacy, but I prefer to roll around in real life. From the mats, with love, me.

The Tech Support Callers Everyone Loves

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…and by loves, we mean we love that we have job security and can secretly feel superior. We remind ourselves this every day. It’s a mantra that keeps us going back to the phones no matter who we have to talk to.

Here is a short list of some of the regulars who call phone tech support. What a coincidence, these people call you too?

If you think you are one of these people, I assure you, the people who do these things know not what they do.

The Nommer
This guy waited until his lunch break to call you. How do you know? Because he’s nomming, slurping, and smacking in your ear. Just when you think it can’t get any worse, he pops a cough drop in his mouth and starts clicking it against his teeth in your ear.

“…click-clock-click …smnosh-smnosh… Yersh, Ihve jrest shent crunch… gulp… you an email with the error.”

The Ummer
This customer is characterized by uncontrollable verbal tics such as: “Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh”. We also have, “um”, “er”, “ah”, “like”, and ending every sentence as if it were a question. A lot of people sound smarter than they are, but these people never do.

“Er. Um… Uuuhhh… I have… like…. Ah. Veesta Ultimate?”

“Ummmm… I’m running… like… the newest one, Snow Leopards..?”

The Entitled User
When people are way too good to know anything about their own computer (or try to check for you), check system requirements, or take responsibility for messing something up (or at least not blame it on you), there is a good chance they are an Entitled User. There’s nothing you can do, say, or fix that will change that fact.

“Why do you make this so complicated? It should just work. What do you mean this won’t run on my computer? You have to support Windows 2000. I’m going to put you on hold. I need to reboot my computer.”

I use Vista, Have UAC Still Turned On, and the VOLUME PUMPED
I don’t know what the call is about yet, but I know it will be painful more due to the fact I have to listen to:

“BOM!”

every time I ask you to do anything.

Can You Hear Me Now?
This guy is jealous of your headset. He cannot type or use a mouse with one hand. He thinks that speaker phone works with his dog barking, children crying, and wife talking to him in the background.

Even better, he’s in traffic not even at his computer. How does he expect to troubleshoot the issue? I don’t know either.

“Noise”

Idiot Pirates (ur doin it rong)
“So… I downloaded this from a website and I can’t get it to work right. Yeah… I didn’t buy it. It’s the free version. I don’t know what pirating is and I don’t think I’m doing that, but my friend said there was this free version. So I went there and I downloaded it and now it doesn’t work. Can you help me?”

Conspiracy Theorist
This guy is super paranoid. You’re out to steal his identity, send him spam, break his computer, and take his money and still not get anything working. He is not going to give you the info you need to solve the problem. He wont even give email address so you can look up and see what he has or send him a fix. What he somehow doesn’t realize is that he’s already given you (the company you work for) all of his info. What he doesn’t know is that you’re trying to help him and his identity is not worth stealing (since apparently it’ll mean an ulcer).

If you get far enough, he might start letting you know what he thinks the issue *really* is and insist you should check into it. These will not be plausible theories, they will be somewhere in left field or even outer space.

“Why do you need my email address? No! I’m not giving that to you. As it is, your company’s website has already broken my computer.”

Yeah I Tried That. It Didn’t Work.
You’ll wrack your brain. You’ll troubleshoot until your brain bleeds. I, the customer, will then admit I didn’t actually do what you told me to about twenty minutes (or three emails) later. It’ll be fun. Whee.

“*Sigh* Ya… I did that already. Of course I did.”

When The Dinosaurs Were Old
“I remember when we didn’t even have computers. What start menu? What’s that? Slow down there… you’re going to have to repeat that. I’m not very computer savvy like you youngsters. You have to understand… *long unrelated story*. Wait, you don’t make this? I called the wrong number? Are you sure?”

“(horrified voice) I might need to upgrade!?”

Anger Management
I don’t know what’s wrong or how serious it is, but I’m angry and I need someone to blame. It’s not my fault, so guess who’s going to take the fall? I’m not interested in getting this working so much as ripping out your heart and eating it.

It’s not that the customer is always right, it’s that he or she HAS a right… that is the right to verbally abuse you.

“$%*&^%”

IDK! …srsly…

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Dude 1: …will be quick

Dudette: I hope so.

Dude 2: That’s what she said.

Dude 3: Indeed, she said it.

Dudette: I hope I never say it in that way.

Dude 2: Depends. Those kids have to get to school.

Dudette: Ummmmm… ?

Dude 2: I have no idea.

Dudette: Depends are diapers for adults.

Dude 1: Hahah- What?

Dude 2: I took that from a Dave Attel line, but it didn’t really work. “Some people say drunk driving is wrong, and I call those people the police. But hey… sometimes those kids gotta get to school.”

Dudette: …

The Game: Part Deux

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This post is a follow up to some research I’m doing on PUA and a book I’m reading on it called The Game. Click on the category link above to see other posts on this.

Here’s the meet and greet for the characters. By the first few pages, you identify with and feel bad for each and every one except the big guy who was going to commit suicide. He’s now the mentor that has taken pity on these poor souls and will lead them to salvation. Surely this is a noble quest to get laid as these guys have no chance of getting some of having a happy life or confident persona. This book so far has been mixing the concepts of going out a getting laid with self confidence and image. I feel like it’s trying to project that to have both, you need both. You’re not a confident, happy person unless you’re getting laid by women. You’re not getting laid by women unless you’re happy and confident.

Let’s face it, neither of those is true. I’ve had boyfriends to prove it, negative, unhappy emo-kids get laid too. There’s a certain kind of attraction reserved for the damaged victims and I’m one that’s fallen for it quite a bit. They also don’t seem to find happiness by getting sex either. People need more than that for fullment.

And I think that happiness can be had without lots of sex with lots of people. I know it sounds shocking. I know this might sounds like a chicken and the egg thing too, but I actually think now to find good connection and sex you have to be a happy and whole person FIRST. Using sex to become happy and confident seems really, really weird to me. I see this as the cart going before the horse. The source of your confidence being your ability to pick up women is maybe as good as any, but I prefer to have a wider and deeper source of why I’m awesome. I have a lot going for me. Sure, I have confidence in my looks and my social interactions, but I don’t let that alone define my source of self worth.

I feel like the more I try to understand, the harder it is to get these shoes on. My feet just don’t fit. I’m still trying to walk this mile.

So the chapter continues and the big guy, Mystery he calls himself (no, not a member of the Xmen or some other comic), starts to get into what they’re going to do over the next days. They’re going to play a game. Well, sure, it’s the title of the book. At first, I think of the Leisure Suit Larry series and laugh a little. Mystery tells his pupils that the game is surprisingly linear. Ah, I say, like an old-school RPG. Then I get to the first line that makes me think that reading this book is as misguided as the Bible reading experiment.

Captain Mystery is talking about how to get the girl you want and essentially says ignore her and become chums with everyone around her. That reverse psychology makes sense. Then he puts on the brass knuckles:

…the pickup artist must intrigue her while pretending to be unaffected by her charm. This is accomplished through use of what is called a neg. Neither a compliment or an insult- a neg is something in between- an accidental insult or a backhanded compliment. The purpose of a neg is to lower a woman’s self esteem…

Did you say what? Did you… oh no you…

Hey all you guys out there, go out and attract women by lowering their self esteem! It’s a well known fact that women fall for assholes time and time again. As their personas get stripped down and they fall helplessly in your laps, you will have the game to thank.

I may just rename this book to How To Be That Asshole I Dated That One Time. Okay, maybe it wasn’t just one time.

My mind races to the questions of, “Has this been used on my by the boy.” The answer: no. Thank ye gods, no. Why? It’ wouldn’t work. As it is, any of his attempts of improving me or any ‘negs’ dropped that I can think have been met with me laughing and throwing it back at him.

Last night, he was trying to get me to stand up straighter. This is a new one. The other day when he did it, I told him the story of a woman I used to work with who said the same thing and qualified it with, “You have nice boobs, sit up strait and let the world see them!”. I teased him, telling him he just wanted to see my boobs better. We joke a lot.

It came up again. I told him another anecdote about how a friend of mine who has immaculate posture actually went out with a guy who told her to stop sitting up so strait and goddamn relax sometimes. It’s a true story.

The moral is if I want to work on my posture, I will for me and my reasons.

The examples Mystery gives are offering a piece of gum after a woman speaks for the first time (implying they have bad breath).

I would do one of two things:

1. I’d say no to the weird guy I just met offering me gum. Maybe there’s a roofie in it. I don’t take candy from strangers. The last time I accepted gum from a coworker it had as much caffeine in it as an energy drink.

2. It’s completely lost on me as a neg. I don’t do certain kinds of social subtlety very well, probably because I don’t give a flying pig crap. So, I take the gum, say thanks, and go about my night.

The other example Mystery gives is saying the woman has lipstick on her teeth…

I don’t wear makeup. I am reminded that these women they’re picking up are not the same kinds of women as me. If it was one of the rare occasions I was wearing makeup, I’d probably say, “Oh, hey, thanks. I don’t wear this crap often, so I have no idea if there’s like a trick to have it not do that. Did you know that a lot of lipsticks supposedly have lead in it? Yeah, and I just ate some. Awesome. Imagine people who wear this stuff all the time- I wonder if people actually get lead poisoning- probably brain damage at least. What do you think?”

No, really, that’s the kind of thing I’d say. I’m a weirdo, remember? And I don’t give a flying wicked witch monkey poo, remember?

I think I’m done reading this book. It’s time to go talk to the boy and try to find my answers that way.

Update: Did last night… but no time to talk about it now. Those thoughts may eventually make there way here.

Sports Bras

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Yes, this will be the second post in which I gripe about womens’ clothing.

I realized I don’t understand sports bras.

I’m a C. I like a lot of support. I like pads, tough, tight, under wire frames, and other things to keep things secure. I’m not saying that bouncing is bad, I’m saying that they still bounce even if the best support, so…

I started doing jiu-jistu, I figure I should get some athletic clothes. I have my gi, but in addition I should be wearing appropriate clothes with it and under it.

I tried on some sports bras.

Fact: I bounce about 75% more with a sports bra than with my regular bras.

Fact: My regular bras provide my chest 100% more protection from being hurt. Padding may not be equivalent to the cups men wear, but yeah, when knee-on-stomach is accidentally knee-on-chest, it helps.

Is this just another joke, like womens’ pant sizes?

I looked it up online and apparently that normal, pull-over sports bras only really work for ‘normal breast sizes’ which apparently is up to a B. So, no wonder I had no luck. I mean, I didn’t know that there was a kind of sports bar that wasn’t a pull-over.

Apparently I need something called an “encapsulation style” sports bra, like my bra is going to be frozen in a capsule so it may be able to wake up in a future time? An encapsulation style sports bra apparently has adjustable back clasps, shoulder straps, and are made in non-stretch fabric. Wait… this sounds like a regular bra. I’m confused.

Now I know what to shop for. I wonder when I try one if I’ll say, “Wow, this feels like a regular bra that I normally wear.”

I also wonder how much of an arm and a leg they’re going to try to charge me for these ‘special’ sports bras.

Woo. Clothing.

Being Involved

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(from May 7th)

Even though I’m technically not in an actual really real relationship with this guy, I’m still seeing him multiple times a week and being extremely involved in his life, and his mine. I’m starting to feel like it looks like a relationship, smells like a relationship, feels like a relationship, and even quacks like a relationship except it’s technically not officially a relationship.

Oh, the blurring of boundaries when we become involved- and decided to stop just before the point of deciding precisely what this is… Welcome to the gray areas, the neutral zone, and other uncharted waters…

Is is like when I tell customers that something isn’t supported, but it will work? Well, then who cares? It’s a label that doesn’t effect anything. It’s untested, but it works. Okay.

Is it more like when you’re told, “Oh, yeah, the cheap one works just as well,” which sometimes it doesn’t? Often times you end up losing and paying for it twice because it didn’t work.

Is this actually like Santa Clause, when you believe something even though deep down you know it’s not true. If you want it enough maybe it will make it true, but one day you realize you need to grow up and quit fooling yourself?

Is this just a bad time for a half-baked comparison?

So today we were supposed to have an “us” night and he decided he needed a “him” night to explore the question of self improvement. Specifically he wanted time to explore his inability to commit to things, him being a hermit and withdrawing rather than dealing, having a hard time figuring out what it is he really actually wants exactly, and being a sheep to his parents, society, and other forces trying to control him. So, am I the only one that thinks exploring one’s withdrawal from people is best done by canceling plans with people is incredibly funny and sad? Explore lack of commitment by breaking commitment is classic. Then, let’s turn around and say “But I really do want to see you!” and while contemplating what you actually want. Well apparently it’s not seeing me, because if it is… well… can I get a fail? If I totally wasn’t the person involved in the joke, this would be hilarious.

His big success tonight I guess was not being a sheep to me… oh, wait, I’m not trying to control him. Remember my pathetically small push for girlfriend status a few posts back? My big hard line was asking him if he thought we’d be able to maybe one day see each other exclusively, him saying no, and me saying, “Well, that sucks but okay.” Way to represent!

Do I need a night of contemplating why I’m such a sheep to certain attractive men with commitment issues?

I regress as this is really not normal for thoughts concerning the boy. Last weekend was amazing and it would take me pages to detail the amount of life I got out of a couple days with him. That’s why I’m still being patient with this. He still makes me happy when we’re together. I need to be careful and watch for the day when he makes more more anxious and the happiness begins to fray. The final option at reasonable signs outweighs waiting for the inevitable to trickle like water torture.

Normally I wouldn’t have this kind of hard line opinion, but we’re not actually in a relationship after all.

The reason he stated for not wanting to be in an actual relationship, besides just not being into me enough (these signals are so mixed, Batman is responding to calls to the Ghost Busters), is that he felt like he had not improved himself enough to be in a relationship.

I’m all for self-improvement, but I think a huge point I’ve been making right along is that life is for living and you don’t improve anything by putting living on hold. Introspection is key, but withdrawing completely from life is useless, pointless, and fruitless. I’ve done enough of it to be somewhat of an expert, and yes, small jaunts down the lane of spending a day playing a silly, pointless video game or laying in bed reading a book are great. Contemplating your situation is healthy. If you do this day in and day out to the point where it interferes with what’s really important or actually doing things, that is a big problem.

If you find yourself with this problem, don’t combat it by staying home and thinking about it. It’s like treating a wound by picking at it rather than slapping on a band-aid and letting it heal while moving on and doing other things.

The positive thing for me here is that though I got a little upset and am ranting a little, I’m handling this little rejection with little worse than a frowning emoticon, this blog post, and pointing out the illogic to him.

I mean, I could be spending tonight along side him as if I was in a relationship with him, helping him deal with his demons. Instead I’m going to go home and take care of me.

A part of me certainly wants to be along side him, but keeping this distance is probably good for my sanity.

Entering the Neutral Zone! Go to yellow alert.

The bigger, looming question of how far and how long I let this go on in this nebulous gray area is still there, but I’m not going to sit at home and pick at it.

I check in with myself from time to time, but not enough to keep myself from making a move forward. I’m going to go on with living.