Please tell me it’s because a rapist drew back a bloody stump and complained to 60 Minutes.

Every now and then, I get a wild hair and check my blog stats. It’s usually pretty much the same every time: a couple dozen new visitors a day plus a handful of loyal returning Rib readers (you know who you are, my friends - and several uppity unlinkables).¹

The keywords from whence people have found my blog range from amusing (”how do you pronounce friggatriskaidekaphobia”) to disturbing (”bat into women’s pussy”) to perplexing (”uppity baby stroller”).

Yesterday was a wild hair day so I bellied up to the Statcounter and found, to my surprise, that the Rib’s hits had spiked dramatically for the week. I checked again today and the trend continues. By the first week in May, I had as many hits as I had for the entire month of April.

Keyword log reveals that almost all of these recent visitors are finding my blog by searching for text or images of “anti rape condom” and “vagina dentata,” and have landed on this post.

I wrote my rant about Rapex when it was scheduled for mass production in April 2007. I didn’t follow the story to confirm whether that actually happened. Now for some reason, almost exactly a year later, buttloads of people are boning up² on this device.

WTF? Did it have a birthday party and forget to invite me? Is it now available over-the-counter like Zyrtec? Or at the pharmacy like a kind of creepy Plan B (”When you’re out of mace, there’s Rapex”)?

I conducted my own googlefest and found no recent news on the weenie whooper-chopper. I did, however, get to reread many idiotic complaints about it from critics. Most of them say, essentially:

“Rapex maims men! It’s too bad about the slut– er, victim and all, but what about the poor rapist? Didja ever think about him? Huh? Huh?!”

I have my own concerns about the so-called anti-rape device, but they sure as fuck aren’t about protecting a rapist’s precious wanker.

Anyway, if you know why everyone and their dog is recently reading up on Rapex, please comment.

Technorati Tags: Rapex

1. At least, you’re unlinkable as far as I know. If you read my blog and have one of your own, leave a comment for some link love! [↩]
2. Sorry… [↩]

People First

On my lunch break today, I found this plastic dogtag on a counter in the company cafeteria:

I know it’s a cheesy Suze Orman gimmick, but there are worse sentiments to carry around with you. I took a cell photo of it and then brought it to the building Security.

“Hi,” I said to the guard behind the desk. “Do you have a lost and found?”

He said nothing but held out his hand. I put the dogtag in it.

“I found this in the –”

“‘People first then money then things,’” read the security guard, frowning. “What’s that?”

“It’s someone’s –”

“We can keep here for twenty-four hours,” he said, “but if no one comes to claim it, it will go to the main office.” He kept reading the tag as if the catchphrase were a terrorist message in code.

“OK. I just thought someone might–”

He tossed the tag into a drawer. “That’s a really weird thing to have on a keychain.”

Technorati Tags: found objects

The one and only thing I have to offer

Yesterday during a long walk through the park, I listened to a podcast called Writers on Writing. The host ended the program with a quote from author Barbara Kingsolver:

Close the door. Write with no one looking over your shoulder. Don’t try to figure out what other people want to hear from you; figure out what you have to say. It’s the one and only thing you have to offer.

What we have to say is born of who we are. Who we really are, not who we think we are or who we want to be or who others want us to be. Scraping off all of that shit is what everyone over the age of three spends the rest of their life doing.

I started this blog so I could write about myself. Us bloggers don’t usually think about it in such narcissistic terms, but it’s true; we write about our own thoughts and feelings about things. And if we write honestly, we expose ourselves.¹

I thought writing about my abortion was scary until I started writing fiction again.

A fantastically fake world was the last place I ever thought I’d find Truth. I’m not writing a deep, subtle, lyrical literary gem; I’m writing a lurid tale of vampires and werewolves and ghosts (oh my!). I’m still as shocked as the proverbial deer in the headlights at the things coming at me.

In the same podcast, the host asked author Amy Bloom what advice she had for writers. She said she tells her students to make a list of the things they are afraid of. That way, at least they’ll be aware of what they’re avoiding in their writing.

There’s a scene in my novel that scared the crap out of me while I was writing it. I had sweaty palms, pounding heart, the whole bit. It describes in detail one of my greatest fears, something packed deep down in my heart that has nothing to do with vampires.

I nearly stopped writing this scene half way through, then realized that a story made of only the safe parts of me is no story at all. I had to go for the full monty.

Writing, or any form of expression, is like that if we want it to ring true. If all we have to offer is what we have to say, then we can’t be afraid of the truth.

Or rather, be afraid, be very afraid - but write it anyway.

Technorati Tags: writing, fiction, blogging

1. Hey! Stop that, you naughty thing. [↩]

Guitar Hero

This kid is really amazing.  But then, his Myspace page says he’s 104  years old, so he’s had a long time to  practice.

Technorati Tags: Sungha Jung

Swing low, sweet chariot

On the plane home from Hawaii, Kevin and I had for a row-mate a hacking, sneezing, writhing mess of a man.

“Don’t worry,” he said to Kevin, just before take off. “I’m not contagious.”

Bull. Shit.

Kevin was sick all last week, and as usually happens, I developed the symptoms a week later. I am now a hacking, sneezing, writhing mess of a woman.

And I can’t stay home from work tomorrow because they are moving me to a new desk on Wednesday and I need to pack.

I think there should be a special section on the plane for sick people and crying babies. Or they should have to pay a fine. Why should those bastards get to torture the innocent with impunity?

Sorry, it’s the cough syrup talking.

Teaser photo

Sunset over Salt Pond Beach on our last day in Kaua’i.

I’m spending my Saturday morning uploading the best trip photos to Flickr. I’m sure by the end I’ll be wondering why I ever came home. Oh yeah, my mortgage.

After reviewing the photos, I’ve decided one of the reasons I like Hawaii so much is the prevalence of bright colors in nature there. Red, purple, yellow and orange are everywhere, not just in planned gardens.

As opposed to the Pacific Northwest. PNW is beautiful, too, no doubt about it, but somewhat monochromatic, even in spring.

Did you know native PNW’ers have 50 words for “green”?

UPDATE: I’m done! View my Kaua’i photos here.

Technorati Tags: Kaua’i, Hawai’i, vacation, photography

Don’t rain on my festival

Subtitle: Happy Earth Day!

One of the best memories from my otherwise mostly-terrible twenties is a weekend in May of 1990 spent at the Whole Earth Festival in Davis, California.

For three days, I hung out with friends on the UC-Davis campus celebrating the anniversary of Earth Day. I wore the same tie-dyed tank top and short red skirt every day. I skipped barefoot in the sun¹ and got as brown as a free-range chicken. I did the hippie spin to live music. I ate my weight in organic food.

And pretty much by osmosis, I learned about the concept of living respectfully with this planet. Educators and vendors taught me some of it, but most I learned by observing socially-conscious people around me who walked their talk.

It was awesome.

Eighteen years later, people are saying my rose-colored memory is just…well, a memory. That Earth Day has become another “Buy More Stuff!!” Day:

“People are being deceived,” [Glen MacIntosh, of the Toronto Climate Campaign] says. “They attend the Earth Day events thinking they are doing a good thing, but really they are being entertained, sold to.”

Well, it may be true that Earth Day events are becoming commercial, joining the ranks of other “causes” selling stuff, like the breast cancer awareness folks and their pink ribbon products² and Gap’s RED campaign.

But I doubt people don’t realize “they are being entertained, sold to.” Of course they know. We live in a consumer culture where it’s virtually unheard of not to be entertained and sold to.

And judging by the numbers of people who are buying clear consciences, we may be losing a sense of value in charity. It seems we feel that when we give, we must always get something in return, even for our gestures of goodwill.

But the coffer doesn’t have to be seen as half empty.

Product campaigns raise awareness of issues in a much more far-reaching way than non-consumer campaigns can. And even though intended audiences may take home only superficial knowledge of the issues, there’s a good chance they will retain it.

Due to Bono’s involvement in the Gap campaign, a millions of kids know about the epidemic of children and women with AIDs in Africa. Because it’s associated in their minds with a pop icon, they’ll probably remember it when they’re adults. You can’t get that from a mention in a textbook or on NPR.

How many of us can remember the name of the lead singer of our favorite band during our senior year in high school? Lots. What were the primary global human rights issues that year? Right.

When I went to the Whole Earth Festival eighteen years ago, I was as green to going-green as a girl raised in the Excessive 80’s could be. I didn’t go to honor the planet or learn anything; I went to party. My education was a happy side-effect.

Lots of things were marketed at me that weekend (who knew you could do so many things with hemp?), but I also experienced a new lifestyle that influences me to this day.   I never forgot what I learned because I was having a blast at the time.

I don’t know if there are a lot more mass-produced “Earth Day products” being marketed nowadays; probably. But even so, as long they dole out the information along with it, and they don’t leave a bigger footprint than they are trying to erase, it’s really not the end of the world.

And a final word to aspiring product marketers: If you have to capitalize on holidays, pick really important ones, like National Jelly Bean Day.

Technorati Tags: Earth Day, Whole Earth Festival

1. Literally. There was a posted tongue-in-cheek rule for that weekend: “No running! Only skipping!” Hippie humor. [↩]
2. I have 2 pink ribbon pins, but I got them free for doing the Race for the Cure. Do they count? [↩]

Goodbye sun, hello…hail?

Got back today from our trip to Kaua’i. Were feeling pretty smug when we heard it snowed in Seattle whilst we were enjoying this…

Alas, pride goeth before a fall. Of freaking hail.

Details on our last couple days in paradise forthcoming… as soon as I recover from the red-eye flight and the shock of 33-degree weather in April.

I need another mai tai.

Technorati Tags: weird weather

Mai Tai Twitchy Eye

One of the things I love about Hawaii is the language. You get to say things like “Pupu (pronounced poo-poo) Road” and “Hanapepe” (hah-nah-pay-pay) and “Mount Wanahakalaugi” (wanna-hock-a-loogie).¹

The street names are 99% vowels. When combined with natural weathering, this can make for challenging navigation, as the signs all look like “ A U KO AI H U ROAD.”

The sun was blazing yesterday – perfect for a day at Poipu Beach. It was busy but not so much that we couldn’t find us a shady picnic table to which we could retreat when sunned out.

We spent the entire day ping-ponging between our shade and the water. The high surf rolling in to the semi-protected cove made for excellent bobbing waves, many with smaller after-bobs. Not a lot of snorkeling action, unless you wanted to go further out and risk pissing off the lifeguards. I wouldn’t have minded being rescued by one of those hotties, but Kevin might have taken issue.

We interrupted our lounging/bobbing cycle for lunch at a nearby restaurant. For dessert we split a huge Hula Pie, which they tell us is made of 100% free-range hula girls. I only had one mai tai and still had to recuperate in the beach chair for an hour.

Then we bobbed some more, lounged for a bit, and then lo and behold, it was time to eat again. (Funny how time flies when you are doing nothing.) Went home, took a quick shower, and went for dinner. My mai tai sent me to bed at 8:30.

Speaking of mai tais: To my consternation and Kevin’s amusement, something in this cocktail gives me muscle twitches in both eyes. Specifically, a muscle twitch just under my left eyebrow and one at the top of my right cheekbone. Every time. And the stronger the mai tai, the bigger the twitches. I’m a walking mai-tai-o-meter. It’s a dirty job…

I was awakened at 5 am this morning by thunder and lightening. The light show has stopped but the rain hasn’t. Today is as wet and cool as yesterday was dry and hot. Kev and I are having a lazy morning (one of our few, so it’s kinda nice) and soon we’ll head west. It’s literally always sunny on the western shore as it’s in the rain shadow of the wettest spot on earth.²

Technorati Tags: Kaua’i, Hawaii, vacation, mai tais

1. OK, so there’s no actual mountain of that name, but there may as well be. [↩]
2. Not Seattle. See previous post. [↩]

Doing the desert, Island style

Kaua’i has desert. Did you know that? I didn’t, until yesterday.

The West Shore of the island is the driest and hottest, yet ironically, it is almost all beach. Most of it’s not even named; you can just stop your car anywhere on the highway and walk over to the surf.

We decided to go to the most remote beach possible. To get there, we drove the bumpy dirt road through Polihale State Park. That Park looks and feels a lot like Wyoming, complete with shirtless locals driving their grubby trucks with 97 dogs in the back.

Along the way, we passed the Pacific Missile Range Facility. While I frown upon missile testing as a rule, I was pleased that because of them I had wireless service through which to send cell phone images to Flickr.

The beach itself is long and white and beautiful – it would be packed with sun worshippers if it wasn’t so out of the way. Plowing through the sand dunes to get to the water, we felt very Lawrence of Arabia.¹

At the very end of the beach is a big pile of lava rocks. Thus begins the Na Pali coast and unless you have a boat, you are done touring the western shore. We took off our shoes and walked up to the end and back, then stood for a while and watched the waves erase our tracks.

The cliffs of the Na Pali Coast are where the Hawaiians believe their dead jumped off into the next world. If there were no ancestors waiting to meet them, these confused spirits would wander around the earth indefinitely, and sometimes attach themselves to inanimate objects. That’s why it’s kapu (taboo) to take anything from the beach; you might get stuck with a spirit trying to get home. I’m glad I’d read about this before I saw that tempting burnt-out motor in the illegal fire pit.

On the way back, we stopped for shrimp. Kevin had something so pungent that when he burped in the confined space of the car, I got to experience his meal, too. Then we went to Salt Pond Beach, a large, manicured beach with many babies. We would have gone swimming but the water near the shore had a suspicious yellow tint.

Next stop was Glass Beach, which I promised Bayou we would see. This small beach is delightfully located between an industrial center and a fragrant dump.² But the shore is very cool, sparkling with glass that has migrated from the dump and been ground soft by the waves. In fact, if the amber hue is any indication, Glass Beach appears to be made entirely of beer bottles. We didn’t take any sand for a souvenier, but I saw another woman do it. It took all I had not to warn her that she could very well be taking home the wandering spirit of an alcoholic.

We got home and went out for dinner at a nice restaurant, where Kevin could see our waiter, Brian, pounding beers in the kitchen, and everyone could hear the couple behind us torturing their waiter like Sally in When Harry Met… I had two mai tais and so of course was in bed by 9.

This morning we went to Waimea Canyon. We went there a couple years ago, but the cloudy day had taken a lot of the spectacular out of it. Today the weather was as fine as could be and it was gorgeous. The drive up is still in the relatively arid western part of the island, but the Canyon itself is lush and verdant. The lookout is at 4,000 feet above sea level, high enough to see “the wettest spot on earth” in the distance, and I don’t mean the Space Needle. It’s Mount Wai ‘ale ‘ale, smack in the center of the island.

I don’t remember the drive back down the Canyon road - that was when the 85-degree heat, 4,000-foot altitude, and yesterday’s mai tais caught up with me and I passed out.

I woke up in time to cajole Kevin into going to the famous trinket store outside Waimea. I bought some coral necklaces and a carved rock. I offered to buy Kevin one of those wooden masks, but he said he knew better after seeing that scary Brady Bunch episode.

Now we are back at the condo in Kapa’a, where we feel perpetually covered in dew after the dryness of the west shore. The surf has been very high all week, so no swimming tonight. That leaves just food and mai tais. Darn.

Technorati Tags: Hawaii, Kaua’i, vacation

1. Did I mention we’ve gone through a bottle and a half of sunscreen? White desert robes are in short supply here. [↩]
2. The things I do for you, Bayou dear! [↩]