I Hate Myself for LovingYou: The Jason Ellis Show

I love music, but I pay for satellite radio for one reason and one reason only - the Jason Ellis Show on Faction. The show airs from 3:00 - 7:00 EST, so I rarely get to listen to all of it. I set my radio to Faction before I leave my car in the morning and the show is up and going for the drive home. I turn it down just once when I roll down the window to swipe my parking card and smile at the nice lady who tells me to have a good night every evening. For the most part his callers (and they are loyal and many) only affirm for me why I'm okay with being single. His regular segments include: Dude, is it gay? And Dude, am I a slut? It's a "dudes"show and I'm not so much a dudes kind of girl, but I can deal. A few weeks ago a rightwingish nutjob phoned in, assuming that Ellis (and the guys on the show) held similar beliefs. He quickly schooled the caller and at the risk of alienating a portion of his fanbase schooled those listening. He could've played the "dude" card, but instead he opted to discuss it and it's for that reason I remain a loyal listener. Sure he says boneheaded sexist things. Yes, he often has porn stars for guests and says on a number of occasions,"Ah, I'd love to bone you, but I'm married..." He asks female callers on occasion if they're fat. He was on Howard Stern recently and today there were a number of Howard listeners who phoned in. For a few minutes I felt like that kid who really likes that band "before they blew up." Some of the things that come out of his mouth are just plain wrong, but I can't stop listening and I can't stop laughing and I don't want to. Jason Ellis is my happy hour. Now, listen: http://www.teamellismate.com/.

Random Facebook Moment

This has nothing to do with anything, but on Facebook (yes, I'm one of the masses) I've been invited by not less than 12 people to "Make 9/11 a Holiday." I know that they don't care my reasons for not joining or not wanting a holiday, and I know that no one has asked, but I'm sharing anyway. I think making September 11 a holiday lessens the impact. Instead of a day of remembrance it becomes a day of rest: a day to stay home and watch television and do the millions of things we don't get to do when we work five days a week. Should we remember September 11? Absolutely. Should we forget? Never. I enjoy a day off work as much as the next girl. I like Oprah. I like sleeping in. I'm not so crazy about Drew Carey and the Price is Right, but I can deal. I think the best way to honor those whose lives ended on September 11, 2001 is to get up, get dressed and go to work which is exactly what they were doing when their lives were taken.

Spinster of the Month (June)

I skipped May. Whatever. June's SOTM is two-month worthy, Diane Keaton. I don't really know that much about her. In the 80s, my family and I watched her film the movie Crimes of the Heart in Southport, North Carolina. Annie Hall and The Godfather are two of my favorite movies. And while in Hair she refused to disrobe. She also dated some of the world's most famous (and attractive) men. She's in her 60s now and is the "face" of a L'oreal product line.

Spinster of the Month (April)

Sure she's got Stedman by her side and her best friend Gayle (every spinster knows the value of great friends), but she's got so much more. Oprah is an inspiration for any number of reasons, but the fact that she continues to inspire and blaze new trails when she could just as easily take her money and retire to one of her many homes is why I've chosen her as SOTM for April, my birth month.

Spinster: Unplugged

Thursday I left work a few minutes early in the hopes of making it to a Zumba class. As I approached the gym and thought about the time it would take to find a parking space, change my clothes and run to class I knew I'd still be late. I decided instead to take advantage of the sunshine, the longer day and the warm(ish) weather and take the dog for a walk. I left my music at home, grabbed a "doggie bag" and my phone and headed out. I've lived here almost a year now and I've driven the back roads, but for the most part I've kept my walking pattern pretty much the same.

This day I decided to widen my circle. I was a couple miles in before I realized that I made a mistake in plotting my path. I knew how I was going to get home; I just didn't know how long it was going to take. When I'm on the computer, I'm listening to a show on Hulu or music in the background. When I talk to a friend on the phone, there's something going on in the background. At work, my documents are up, but so is my Gmail so I can be alerted to updates from my friends. I'm never doing just one thing. No wonder I'm so tired all the time. Even when I'm exercising I'm listening to music or thinking about the 100 things going on in my life. Even though I'm "here," I'm always thinking of "there." Until I got lost. When I was trying to find my way home the other day it was getting dark. I was on a back road and I was conscious only of my surroundings -- the sound of approaching cars, the feel of the wind, potholes. It was the most focused I've been in years.

Yesterday, I headed to one of the metro parks for a hike and a run (I'm now at the point where I walk as much as I run, but not yet ready to call it a run) with the dog. My phone wasn't working and I left the music player at home. It was pretty warm and had rained earlier in the morning. We took off first past the cemetary and then back into the trails. Again, I found myself completely focused. The ground was soft and because of the rain slippery in places. I had to watch my footing. I also had to watch out for squirrels. We enountered a fat one seemingly unafraid of my plundering steps or my dog's death stare. I listened to the birds and a nature walk in progress. I was tuned in, but I was unplugged. I saw a blue jay for the first time in months. We followed several different paths until I noticed my dog's panting had increased and we exited the woods for water. I felt like I'd been out there for hours. The look on my dog's face seemingly confirmed this.

I emerged feeling refreshed and accomplished. Unlike my favorite hiking haunts in WV, there are relatively few hills on these paths so I didn't have to contemplate whether or not a run would leave me ill prepared to make it up a mountain I was sure to encounter. I ran focused only on my path and my breathing. I emerged feeling anew. When I got back to my car, I looked at the clock. I'd only been at it an hour. Sixty minutes without the bells, the whistles, the buzzing of my daiy life and it felt like so much more.

I'm not ready to head to zen mountain or sell my BlackBerry or abandon my Simpsons subscription on Hulu, but I am ready to commit to an hour (or so) a week spent off the grid. I want to experience here if only for a little while. I'll worry about the rest, when I get there.

I'm over it. I'm done.

I'm not a Chris Brown fan (even before the accusations of his abuse of girlfriend Rihanna were made public), but Rihanna is in heavy rotation on my work-out mix. She gets me over the hum when I'm halfway through the elliptical and just before I break into a jog on the treadmill. Last night she helped me find my way home at the end of a five mile walk run (mostly walk). Since she released her first single she's been a presence in every fashion magazine I've picked up and she and Chris (and their "secret" relationship) have been the talk of celebrity gossip columns for weeks. It's hard to forget they're just 19. When I was 19 I had a crush on (and eventually "dated" scare quotes intended) a college football player. He dumped me for an older woman who did his laundry (yes, I know you've heard it all before). I made my friend E drive by the "other" woman's house for weeks until finally I was over it. I was done. I don't really have a point with this except that 31, I wouldn't do that. And I was recently dumped (sort of) for a much older woman, so I've actually had the chance to test that theory out.

What troubles me more than the abuse (and don't misunderstand me I am troubled by that inasmuch as I would be troubled by anyone affect by domestic violence) is that Chris Brown's fanbase is largely young and largely female. Earlier today I read that his "people" were circulating an e-mail encouraging votes for some Nickelodeon Kids Choice Award. These same people are working hard to rehabiliate his career. I get it. Their careers are on the line as well. They have families, kids, mortgages, beach houses. Chris Brown is a product as much as he is a young man. I'm in marketing. I understand positioning. I understand packaging. If Chris Brown must be repackaged and resold, I would implore his "people" to stay away from young girls. They grow up so quickly already. They're sent so many mixed messages from the media and from television. It breaks my heart to think that seemingly mature intelligent adults would repackage and resell an abuser. What Rihanna and Chris Brown decide to do with their relationship and whether or not she chooses to cooperate with the investigation is no one's concern, but what we choose to do as consumers or as parents or simply as concerned adults is. I think we give celebrities in this country too much power and I get it. Celebrities are fun and interesting and their lives are so much more exciting that our own (or mine anyway). They get great clothes and make-up and get to go on television and make self-important acceptance speeches and spew bullshit about subjects they know nothing about (not that I'd know anything about that).

As Chris Brown and Rihanna embark on their media tour or write their book, when you see them on Oprah I ask you to pay attention to the men (and women) behind the curtain because they'll be there and I ask you to remember what he stands accused of and I hope that you'll think once or twice before downloading his songs on itunes or buying his cds. Some things are forgettable, some things are forgivable, but domestic violence isn't one of those things.

(Fictional) Spinster of the Month

The inaugural Spinster of the Month is fictional character Liz Lemon of NBC's 30 Rock (played by Tina Fey at left). Liz has placed an empahasis on her career as headwriter on a Saturday Night Live-esque television show and as a result her personal life frequently suffers. At the end of the last season she broke up with her boyfriend Floyd after he forced her to choose between her career and moving with him to Cleveland. Prior to that she was in a longterm relationship which she broke off after seeing him caught on "To Catch a Predator." Liz's favorite vacation spot encourages a beach custom of wearing socks with sandals. She's a bit too friendly with her boss Jack Doneghy. Liz is the spinster of the month because unlike many single women (Sex & the City girls I love you, but I'm talking to you) on television, she makes me feel better about my life. In many ways I can relate to Liz. My romantic relationships (especially of late) often leave me feeling a bit irksome, but like Liz I keep on moving. And like Liz, I'm not afraid to rock my glasses with a pair of four inch heels. So, Liz Lemon, this month I salute you for setting the bar for single women on television just close enough for the rest of us.

What Happens at the Dirty Show...

...sure doesn't stay at the dirty show. I've been thinking a lot about my experience at Detroit's Dirty Show last week. There was no, "I kissed a girl and I liked it;" I didn't get spanked (though more than a few tried). And if I did, I'm sure not going to tell here. I haven't led a particularly sheltered life, but I saw some things that night. Some things I don't think I'll soon forget. The Dirty Show is an international erotic art exhibition now in its tenth year. It was a wonderful mix of freeks, geeks, miscreants, weirdos and suburbanites. There was latex and there was leather. There were hipsters and hippies. And then there was me. It was actually kind of fun to put some thought into my digs for the first time in a long time. I finally settled on what I like to call "spinster chic." And while it was sexier than my normal attire, I was damn near cloistered compared to some of my fellow Dirty Show goers. There were more than a few people on leashes (!) and a few adorned head to toe in black pleather (fetish gear I've since learned it's called). There were moms and dads dressed up for the night. And there was a woman bent over some sort of altar. It was freaky and fabulous. I was most taken with the aerial and burlesque acts on stage. Seeing so many people comfortable in their own imperfect skin was inspiring. The women climbing silk sheets and displaying amazing strength and grace captured most of my attention. As did a piece involving clowns entitled "Fucking Funny," I liked the name more than the piece, but I can't complain. It was fun stepping outside my comfort zone. It was one of those things that years ago I would've never attended on my own and I would've never known any different. And that would've been a shame.