HAPPY NEW YEAR!

I'm not one who really gets introspective about the past year as it's ending, so I've got few thoughts on that.
I'm about to go to a party with a bunch of old people, where I'll probably be the spring chicken of the bunch. There will be a live band playing Latin music. And dancing. I like Latin music, but not really for NYE. So, as I'm here in my hotel room getting ready, I'm listening to my favorite album of the year, LCD Soundsystem's This Is Happening. This album blows my mind, as did their concert.
Maybe take this New Year's Eve as an opportunity to dance yourself clean and start the new year all fresh. Have fun, kiddos.
xx,
TP

Hasta Pronto!

Hi, lovely readers. I'm about to take off for my holiday vacation abroad. Pretty sure there's not going to be much time for blogging (maybe there won't be much internet access either). Hope you all have a great holiday and a happy New Year.
See you in 2011!
xx

The OB Tampon Mystery of 2010

Hopefully I'm not alienating any male readers I may have here, but the plot thickens (see the second half of a previous post for the beginning of the story). I've been doing a little googling, and it turns out that the whole country is out of OB tampons. I learned this reading Carey Goldberg's article for WBUR. According to her article, Johnson & Johnson is saying it's just a manufacturing issue. But they're not saying much else. I commented on her article and it printed my full name (egads!), so I emailed her to fix it and we got to chatting a little. She is a bit suspicious and now I am too. Given all the trouble that Johnson & Johnson has been in lately, it's hard not to think that there might be something shady going on with yet another one of their products. I'll keep you posted!

Please Support My Friend

Well, way more than just any old friend. A very dear friend. He thinks it's cheating, but I've noticed that you can vote from multiple computers and that you can vote once every 24 hours, so help him out. He's really good at both the "broke" part and "artist" part. It's a three month residency program and your votes count in the final judging. Help him get worse at being broke and better at being an artist (though I think he's already pretty damn good). Vote here. Do it now, do it tomorrow, do it the next day, do it from your phone.

Below is a small sample and here's his website. Thanks!

So Glad I'm Not a Teenager Right Now

Before I get started on the meat of this post, let me say that this is my first time actually posting in my pajamas! I thought it was worth noting.

Anyway, to get to the point. I'm not saying I'm glad I'm not a teenager right now because being a teenager sucks. I have heard that it does from a number of people, but it didn't for me. The reason I'm glad I'm not a teenager right now is because of technology—the internet, mainly—and all the trouble that that injects into adolescence. I won't even get started with Facebook and people being publicly catty and mean towards each other. That's just a nightmare, plain and simple. I'm talking about the chronicling of everyday activities that ends up on the internet. Have you guys seen Miley Cyrus taking bong hits? If not, check it out (or just watch it again for fun):



When I saw this video, the first thing I thought (well, actually, the second. The first thing I thought was, "Why are they listening to Bush? I was listening to Bush when I was that age and that band isn't good enough to stand the test of time.") was, "Aw, man, to be a teenager again. That looks so fun!!!"

And people are giving her shit. And her dad is tweeting, yes, tweeting, his disappointment in her. What the fuck has happened to people?!

I mean, come on, people! She's 18! MANY of us did worse shit younger. AND, she's in a house that she probably paid for! She even claims that she's smoking salvia (which is legal), so she's not even breaking the law (even though I think she's probably lying).

We took a lot of incriminating photos of one another in high school, but those were the days of film! Someone once took a picture of Gaby and me smoking a huge joint (how did we afford such huge joints in high school?) in her garage, when her parents were out of town, with her parents' camera, apparently. These pictures then got developed, along with the other pix on the film roll, which were of a family celebration. Her parents obviously saw them. Her parents that I'd known for ages, that my parents were friends with. But nothing happened. She got in trouble, but they never told my parents (as far as I know). They probably thought of me as a bad seed, but that's it. Wasn't on the internet for the world to see. We kept it all in the neighborhood.

****************************
And here's another reason I'm glad I'm not a teenager these days: they seem so bored with life. I am a user of OB tampons (I promise this is relevant). I prefer them because they're easier to transport and better for the environment than tampons with applicators. I am running out, so went to the store to get some. They were out. So I went to another store. Same story. And another. And another. Why is everyone out of this particular kind of tampon?!?!? Having spent the majority of my life studying drug use (academically [and yes, in my personal life too—that joke is so old I fell off my dinosaur last time I heard it]), I immediately thought, "There must be some illicit way to use these tampons that I don't know about" (see my tweets for proof!). I shared this thought with my brother and we joked about dissolving cocaine in water and dipping tampons in them and shoving them up your nose and various other ridiculous ways to get high with tampons.

Then I got home and told my roommate about the mysterious shortage of OBs and my theory about illicit uses and she said, "Oh, you don't know?" And then proceeds to tell me that high school kids these days DIP OB TAMPONS IN ALCOHOL AND SHOVE THEM UP THEIR BUTTS TO GET WASTED. What ever happened to plain old drinking? Are they in that much of a hurry? Last time I checked, Everclear shots got you drunk pretty fast. Is that just too boring? She also told me that they put VODKA IN THEIR EYES. What is wrong with the youth of today???

I texted my brother the news about the tampon. Here's our conversation:

Him: Yeah... bypasses the liver. Do we really need to get inventive with drinking?
Me: It's still going to your liver though. She also told me that kids put vodka in their eyes.
Him: Can't talk. Smoking a joint with my armpit.

Then I went out to a bar and drank a couple of glasses of wine. With my mouth.

Miss You

My mom died when I was five. Of cancer. It's impossible for me to articulate how it's affected me, but it's profound. Sometimes I marvel at how much it hits me–to miss someone I never really knew so much. I know I'm not alone here though. I once had a friend, a best friend who has since slipped away, whose mom also died when she was five. We didn't talk about it much, but acknowledged and just knew that we were affected in the same way.

I've been thinking about her a lot today. Her grave is in another country, so I don't get to visit her nearly as much as I'd like to, but I'm going there over the holidays, so I'll have my once every 3-5 years chance. And I'll get to hang out with my aunt, who was her best friend. And try to learn about who she was, a task I've been undertaking for the past 29 years. I have a feeling this isn't the most eloquent post, but I'm somewhat distraught, so I believe I have license.

Anyway, I miss you, Mom. Still do, always will. Hope you can see me from wherever you are. Hope you're proud (at least mostly proud). See you in a few weeks. Love you.

This Aging Thing Won't Stop Happening!

I'm 33. Almost 34. So far in life, I've achieved one major professional goal: never having to buy/wear a business suit. I kind of dress like a bum, which generally means not dressing my age. This is not to say I'm wearing daisy dukes or belly shirts (you're welcome), but I dress pretty casually and I'm pretty sure that's why people tend to guess I'm 23-26.
Despite the outward appearance, I frequently find myself thinking or saying something and then thinking/saying, "oh my god. I'm old. I just sounded like my mom (or dad)." At lunch today, I saw a kid, early 20s?, wearing a shirt that said, simply, "PARTY WITH SLUTS." I fought the urge to ask him how that shirt was working out for him. Then I thought, "Wait, what if that actually works with the girls these days?" I'm not saying that girls now are sluttier--most everyone I know has had their day--but maybe now they advertise it? We were a little more discreet (one friend explained, "I'm not a slut, just slutty."). My next thought was, "your mother must be so proud."
So yeah, I'm old. I like the wisdom aspect. Otherwise, I'm kicking and screaming my way to higher digits.

It's Just Fairness Y'all. That's All

Somehow lately I've been reading a lot of gay blogs. I guess probably because I have the same social and political leanings as these guys. Saw this today on Joe.My.God (also, excellent blog title!). It makes me crazy that gay marriage is even an issue, that homophobia exists. I have a general life rule that I don't really give a fuck what you do as long as you're not hurting anyone doing it. Why are we getting into people's business? Why are we taking away (well, never really giving in the first place) civil rights? Based on attraction? That seems like the least important thing. Anyway, this guy says it pretty damn well. (Sorry that it's bleeding over. I have to work on some formatting stuff. Another day!)



UPDATE: Civil unions passed in Illinois! Yay!
Still not marriage though :(

Quitter

Ok. So last night when I agreed to do that reverb thing, I wasn't really paying attention. I was too sleepy! Anyway, upon further inspection, I've realized it's a thing for writers. I don't consider myself a writer. And it's asking me to reflect upon my year a lot, which is mildly annoying. I don't have a problem with that idea generally, but I don't really want to do it every day and I don't want to do it in the manner they ask me to. It's homework,  you see. Which would be fine. If I was trying to sharpen my writing skills. Which I'm not. So I'm quitting! Dropping out, one entry in. Hell, half an entry in.
I think what I'll post here instead will (hopefully) be more entertaining for you anyway.
(sorry Jane!)

Reverb

Jane Donuts encouraged me to sign up for this reverb thing. I'll explain later and add links and all that, but I'm supposed to do something every day and the day is almost over and i really want to go to bed NOW, so I'm doing today's kinda cheap and will expound later.
I'm supposed to describe the past year in one word. That word is: change.
Then I'm supposed to explain that, but that would make bed that much further away, so I'll do that later.
Then I'm supposed to describe what I'd like 2011 to be like. Joy. More later.
xx

I Love These

Still haven't thought of anything to write about, so I'll probably post some stuff from the interwebs for a while. Here are these. I love them. From BoingBoing.

Buy 'em here.
Ok, that just made me think of something. I don't think girls grow up thinking they can do these things. I guess that's not an original idea (obviously, there are posters about it). I love these posters, but it's sad they're necessary. Somehow, I escaped the whole thinking-I-was-less-than part of childhood and adolescence. I'm glad, because it sounds like it sucked/sucks. I don't know if it was because I grew up with a mom that made more than my dad or because my dad was a major taskmaster and frankly didn't give a shit if it was me or my brother doing the dishes or mowing the lawn or jamming chewed Juicy Fruit into mole hills (long story). So just treat girls like normal people. Like they can do anything. Like they should do anything. Then they wouldn't need these posters. Even though they're really cute.

Gone Under the Knife Much?

YIKES.

Thanks, Guys!

I emailed a bunch of friends about my blog last week and my little counter shows that my numbers have gone up a bunch, so thanks for coming by. Next marketing trick will be a corresponding Twitter account. I should probably come up with some new blog posts though. You know, some actual content. I don't really have any good ideas at the moment. I was gonna write about all this TSA business. I'm traveling soon—would I rather be irradiated or groped? (Groped.) But I've since heard that they aren't really doing either, so kind of a moot point. I promise to come up with some good, or at least decent, ideas in the next day or two. Let me know if you have any. Much obliged.

Priorities

I finally finished my two weeks of bland dieting. I started Phase II yesterday, which consists of adding one prohibited item to my diet for three days to see if it has a negative effect on me. I can only add one thing at a time (otherwise I won't know what I'm reacting to). I had a difficult decision to make yesterday: what to add? It was a toss up between spicy food and booze. Spicy food won! I've been hitting the [hot sauce] bottle pretty heavily for a few meals and so far, so good. THANK GOD. I didn't plan it, but I just realized that day 1 of experimentation with the next "food group", alcohol, conveniently falls on Thanksgiving, a day filled with foods I can eat (except for cranberry sauce, which is gross anyway).
So here's to a lot of gobble gobbling, good times with friends and family, and general, non-irritating gluttony! Cheers! xx

The Devil's in the Details (aka I'm a Perv)

Jane Donuts just alerted me to this site, which is dedicated to the funny messages sometimes created with iPhone's autocorrect. There's some gold in them there hills.

I was reminded of a hilarious instance in which this happened to me. And then I realized that that's not at all what happened. What did happen was this: I was having an IM conversation with a friend of mine who was working for the State Department (I think) in Afghanistan. We were talking about Afghanistan vs. Los Angeles (hardly indistinguishable, as you may guess). It was early, I guess I was skimming, and this occurred:

Oh, the Humanity

Yesterday, I was driving to a doctor's appointment when I looked over to the sidewalk. The first thing I saw was some butt cleavage. Then I noticed that it was a man, hunched over, washing his hair. He was getting the water from a spigot attached to some Melrose Ave. store. At first I thought it was kind of funny and random. Then I thought, "Oh god, how horribly depressing. He cares." It's not depressing that he cares, it's, in fact, a good sign that he hasn't slipped too far into what I've seen plague a lot of homeless people: namely, mental illness and addiction. What was depressing is that he was aware of his state.

When people have gotten to this stage, it's easy to discount their humanness. I will admit to having thought of more than one homeless person as feral. They are so dirty and wild-eyed and crazy-haired. It's hard not to. And then I think about them once having been fresh, pink (or brown) babies and wonder at what point in their lives the shit storm began. Because, there was definitely at one point in their lives–or, at many points in their lives–a shit storm or several. Maybe it was straight out of the womb. Maybe it was while they were still in the womb. Maybe it took until their late teens or early 20s, when mental illness tends to set in. Or maybe a personal tragedy, in relationships, finances, or something else, sent them over the edge later in life.

I used to have a job where I interviewed mentally ill addicts. A lot of people I talked to were homeless, or had been. A lot of stories I heard were basically nauseating. I found myself thinking, "I can't believe humans do these sorts of things to one another." It's a cycle: one person does something inhuman to another, converts that person, who then does something inhuman to someone else. I talked to people who were guilty of continuing the cycle. Some were repentant, some were not. Many didn't have the clarity to think about it deeply. I talked to others, however, who were survivors. Yes, they were addicts, but they were, in large part, self-medicating. They were trying to get better and they weren't taking any prisoners in the process. They knew they had suffered injustices and were doing the best they could to overcome them. They still had the seed of knowledge about what was right and what was wasn't and they weren't giving up. I like to think that the sidewalk hair washer was in that place. Taking care of what he could, moving forward in whatever increments he's capable of.

When I saw him, I texted a friend (who's Jewish) to tell her about it.
She said, "At least he's washing."
I responded, "I know. I was pretty impressed. Also depressed. Because, you know, he *cared*"
She said, "Yeah. Only the people with self-preserving/humanizing rituals survived the camps... as my dad would tell me."

I don't really know what my final point is. I guess it's to treat other people with kindness. Especially those to whom it might be hardest to be kind to. Because they've almost certainly been through some shit that you don't know about. Shit that you might not be able to handle either. It's hard to do this. I admit to not being very good at it. I'm not outright mean or anything, but I'll definitely do my best to ignore the guy at the side of the road. I'm not saying that you should give him money or anything, but a nice hello might be greatly appreciated. It sounds silly maybe, greeting someone that you've not going to give anything to. Maybe it is, but I'm going to try to work on it. Because here's something that maybe made my heart scream more during my interviewing job than stories of adults abusing children: being thanked by the interviewee for talking to them because it was the most anyone had ever listened to them in their lives.

I've Got Real Problems

I have caught myself twice in the past two days staring lovingly and longingly at a bottle of hot sauce.

Five more days of this bland diet. I seem to have lost a bit of weight in the process, but I would gladly put on a few lbs in exchange for a burrito in my mouth right now!

I Want a Taco, Dammit!

I am on a doctor-prescribed diet for two weeks for a health issue. The good news is that it seems to be working. The bad news is that it's keeping me from eating all the foods that are dear to me, mainly, tacos. I'm not allowed:
Booze
Caffeine
Anything carbonated
Anything acidic (so, my beverage options are water and blueberry juice)
Anything spicy (THE HORROR)
Fruits (except blueberries and pears)
Soy anything
Chocolate
Hazelnuts
Tomatoes (it is HARD to avoid these)
Mustard
Ketchup
Pickles
Salad dressing
Other things, I'm sure.

My first attempt at going out to dinner went like this: Friend: Can you eat fish? Me: yeah. Friend: can you eat rice? Me: yeah. Friend: Let's go get sushi. Me: great idea!
So, we get there and sit down and I realize I can't have soy sauce, wasabi, or ginger. As much as I love sushi and want to say it's good on its own, it really isn't.

Things I Dropped in My Cleavage Today

A french fry
A receipt

The Dangers of Online Dating

From time to time, I find myself online dating. I don't have anything against it and am not ashamed of it, but it's not my favorite way to meet dudes. But being a shut-in hermit isn't the best way to meet the less fair sex, so sometimes I turn to it. There are (obviously) a number of weirdos on there. There are also a lot of nice guys. There aren't very many guys that I would consider dating. But, I persist. In part because some insanely good stories (or at least forwards) come out of it. And now, this blog post.

THE STORY OF CHRIS
The other night, I got an email from a guy, Coastal_Life81. Something complimentary and asking if I had gmail chat. I told him that I did, but it was under my full name and I didn't want him to know that. He said he was not a weirdo and we should chat. I was bored and he was cute,

so I made up another gmail account using my username on the site (I should note that I'm on OK Cupid now, which BY FAR, has way more pervs than any other site I've been on. I should also note that while I generally think it's totally tacky for a guy to have a shirtless pic, well, he was hot. I let it slide.). His profile said that he was a PhD in Biology, currently teaching at the University of Auckland. In his email, he said he was coming to LA soon to do research on the Channel Islands.

We start chatting, and it gets weird fast. By weird, I mean within two or three exchanges, he's told me that he has an 11-inch penis and that most of the girls in New Zealand are scared of it, so he's excited to come back to America, where girls are more "adventurous." He then proceeds to ask me all sorts of questions about my sex life. I humor him with some, refuse to answer others. I'm mostly getting a kick out of this guy. Not in the he-makes-me-hot-way, but in the I'm-basically-anonymous-and-this-doesn't-matter-way. Plus, I was IMing with a friend at the same time.  So, yeah, I was entertained. He kept steering the conversation to certain topics and I would go on some tangent and he would guide me back. Not discreetly. It was pretty obvious he wanted me to talk about fucking big dicks. I definitely had nothing to say about sex with 11-inch peens. Eventually, I got tired of it and told him I was going to bed. He persisted and then I told him it was getting old. He signed off by saying, "I think we'd have a really good repore." Repore. I guess I wasn't paying attention, but that was the first moment when I thought, "Wait, this guy has a PhD???"

Next day, I'm bored at work and decide to start doing some research. He says he's at U Auckland, so I go to their Bio department and find a lecturer with the name of Chris. Get a last name, search images. Don't see anything resembling the hunk of meat above. Check Google Scholar for academic articles. You can't have a PhD without having some publications, I reason. Find the U Auckland guy. Earliest articles are from when Chris would have been 19. Possible, but unlikely. He had to have been a bit of a prodigy and, yeah, I know this is biased, but I don't really think prodigies are that hot. Then I run into a bunch of dead ends and finally just email him and ask him his full name so I can internet stalk him. He writes back with an email address that he says I can search on Facebook. I key it in and get a profile that's totally private. I have to be his friend to see anything. Fuck that! I watched Catfish—I know that the presence of a Facebook profile means nothing. But now I had a last name (from his email and different than the University of Auckland one I'd dug up before). I google that. Nothing. Then I google it and "University of Auckland" and come upon a journal entry from a girl in NY on OK Cupid. This is it:

So, besides the fact that this is a pretty ridiculous conversation, what really struck me was that some of the things he said here, he said to me, verbatim. He was actually cutting and pasting while we were chatting! I emailed him and told him he was a fraud and that was that.  Crazy, no?

TWO GUYS

I got this email last night. My response was, "Uh, no. Also, LOL."

I am really tempted to email these guys and ask them how their quest is going. I mean, do women really respond to these sorts of things? (UPDATE: It turns out that a lot of people, females mostly (only?), don't know what a DP is. Double penetration. Wash your ears out with soap now.)

TMI

There's a question that's something like, "What's the most private thing you're willing to admit here?" Some guy responded, "I pee sitting down."

It was basically a self-castration.

Anyway, I'll share some more funny stories as they come up.

Okay, I'm Doing a Terrible Job Keeping Up With This

The creative juices are not totally flowing. In the meantime, here's this, courtesy of Jane Donuts.
She sent it to me today. Told me it had 30 million views and she'd never even heard of it. Me either!

I Just Had This Thought:

If you think about whether you need to shower for longer than 30 minutes, you probably need to shower.

With that, I'm going to hop in the shower now.
More thoughtful posts to come, I promise!

Also, I think I'm ditching the question at the end of the post format. I think the request for comments is implied in most blog posts, no?

I just voted

to, among other things, legalize marijuana.
I'm really happy that made it on the ballot. I've read the proposition and it's true that it's poorly written. I'm not sure that it will win, so that's ok. But I'm glad that enough people recognize the hypocrisy of the legality of alcohol and tobacco. I don't know if that sentence made sense. I DO know that booze and ciggies are way worse for you and have a MUCH higher social, personal (for some), and public health cost than grass. Thanks, California, for at least giving it a shot.

GO VOTE TODAY!!!

I'm Moving!

Not websites or anything, just switching homes. Basically moving down the street. Not too far, but still a major pain in the ass. So, I might be away for a little while, moving, cleaning, organizing, etc. Ta ta!

Most of the Time I'm Smart, but Sometimes I'm Very, Very Dumb

Do you ever have those moments when you scream at yourself, "You iiiiiiidiot!"? I was reminded of one the other day.

You know how new deodorant comes with that clear plastic thing under the lid? I'm assuming it's so people don't use the deodorant in the store. That clear plastic thing has a ridge that sticks up. Well, up until less than a year ago, I would always struggle to pull that little plastic thing off. It's so hard to grasp! Why do they make it like that?!?! And then, 17 or 18 years into deodorant wearing, I realized you can just raise the deodorant and the plastic thing basically falls off.

Chuckling to myself, I remembered a hilarious episode of This American Life that featured, among other things, a person who thought unicorns were real. In college. Just made it through life somehow, never realizing that they are a fantasy creature. Anyway, listen to it here because it's real funny.

WHAT'S THE DUMBEST THING YOU'VE EVER DONE OR THOUGHT/BELIEVED?

Holy Crap! Read my blog more so no one else makes the same googling error I did.

So, last night, after posting, I was laying around watching tv and playing on my iPhone. I was wondering what my new blog looked like on my phone. Too lazy to type out the URL, I googled "Tammy Pajamas." And stumbled upon something horribly frightening. I thought it was weird and violent child porn (is there NOT weird and violent child porn?), but then came to find out that it's actually a fetish category that involves adults acting like children and getting spanked a lot for being bad. Other punishments include butt plugs. A lot of talk of "bottoms" in general. Not bottoms like the receptive partner in anal sex, but bottoms like the 1950s-Dick-and-Jane-this-is-how-we-say-it-the-nice-way-butts.
Anyway, check it out here, sickos.

*This reminds me of the time when I was looking for small plastic animals to put in the terraria that I sometimes make. I googled "plastic animals" or something and was directed to an eBay posting for adult diapers. But, not like Depends. Like, baby diapers that were big enough for adults to wear because they're into that kind of thing. They had animals on them. And were advertised as making a lot of noise (because diaper noises are good for people that like adults in diapers). Ah, the interwebs and accidental googling...

Now, to totally change topics....
A word about my name. A year or two or somewhere in between ago, I was in NYC visiting some loved ones. We were at a bar, we sat outside. There was a sign advertising the DJ that evening, one Sammy Bananas. Drunk on life—and beer—we started making a lot of Sammy Bananas jokes. We never actually saw SB. Not that I recall anyway. But we were sure he had a moustache and, for a while, at least, we were sure he was of South Indian descent. The next day, we made jokes about having been impregnated by Sammy Bananas. We really just liked saying the name. Cut forward a few months. I'm on iChat and see that one of my friends has his status set to the thing where it tells what you're listening to. AND HE'S LISTENING TO SAMMY BANANAS! I honestly didn't really believe SB was a real person. But he is. And he has a myspace page. And a moustache! (But he's not Indian.) Check him out. Not really my thing. But I still love his name. And therefore totally ripped it off.

Here's your question:
WHAT'S THE WEIRDEST THING YOU EVER STUMBLED UPON ON THE INTERNET?

9021Whoa

Amazing.

Welcome Back to Me!

I had another blog, once ago. It's been a while since I've written in it. I was thinking I wanted to start another blog, but couldn't think of anything good. So, here you have it: Tammy Pajamas.
All I've really decided is that I'll probably ask a question at the end of posts and hopefully people will answer it in the comments. But if no one participates, I'm abandoning that gimmick.

So, what do you think of my name on here? I just invented it as my DJ name. Earlier today, via Facebook (FB) comment chatter, I/we came up with my rockstar name: Jeebus Jerboa.

WHAT'S YOUR ROCK STAR NAME?