Cecilia Fire Thunder

Egalia and Twisty already posted about this, but it’s so awesome I just had to share it with you, too. Cecilia Fire Thunder, the President of the Oglala Sioux Tribe on the Pine Ridge Reservation has pledged to open a Planned Parenthood on the Reservation to serve all of the women in South Dakota.

She says, “I will personally establish a Planned Parenthood clinic on my own land which is within the boundaries of the Pine Ridge Reservation where the State of South Dakota has absolutely no jurisdiction.” [emphasis mine]

Come On, I Know You’re Dying to Know What Happened

First, let’s just be thankful that Tiny Cat Pants is not all failed home improvement all the time.

Then, let’s get on to the gory details. Saraclark and Peg were right. I ran that zipper thing down the sink and pulled up some black sludge the likes of which I hope to never see again.

I couldn’t get it down the tub drain, sadly, because of how the drain is set up, so I was unable to discover any weird gross things down there. I did, however, pick up this awesome foaming cleaning stuff that they say you just have to spray on and wipe off. I wish I were kidding when I tell you that I had no idea how gross my shower was until I saw the grime this stuff pulled off.

Now, I’m making a half-hearted attempt to finally clean the kitchen. I’ve been half-assing my way through it since yesterday and finally, I think I can clean the stovetop and the counters and call it done.

As for the door, Sarcastro came over to “help.” So, really, I got him some water and admitted that I would not have been able to do it myself and he took care of everything like a true pro.

Then, not only did he put the door back on, he rigged it so that it will swing shut on its own, which was a step beyond what I’d hoped to accomplish myself.

I’m thrilled. Maybe I should make him a commemorative plaque to show my appreciation.

The Door Saga Continues, But with a Minor Resolution

Here in about five minutes, I’m going to have to call Sarcastro and admit that I can’t fix my door myself, not because I don’t know how to use tools or follow his eminently brilliant advice, but because I can’t measure for shit and cannot shop.

Here is Sarcastro’s brilliant idea: the screws, as they knock around in the door, are making the holes in the door larger than the holes in the hinges, as I said, therefore, I should get me some little plastic anchors and sink them into the door holes and then run the screws through the hinges and into the door.

Genius, right?

Well, so, I go to Lowe’s. I flirt with old men. I find the anchor that appears to fit the measurement I made for the hole. I’m not sure. I call Sarcastro. He’s all going over the whole plan. I’m like no, I get the whole plan. I have no confidence in my abilities to execute the important details. He’s all like, this is your chance to throw off the yoke of your patriarchal oppression and empower yourself by fixing the door. Don’t fail now. I’m like, great, that will be very comforting when I’ve fucked this up.

And, I was right. Failing for feminism sucks.

Y’all. Here’s another stupid thing I do. I take things like this as if they’re indicative of some larger issue. I bought anchors slightly too large and I’m sitting here all like, this means I’m incompetent.

In real life, it doesn’t. It just means I need to go back and get some smaller anchors and, thus, some smaller screws.

I wonder if this is a problem inherent with being an English major. In literature, if a character is always making 4 trips to the hardware store when she really could just make one if she knew what she was doing, it means something larger about her character and the themes of the novel. The author doesn’t include little details like that without a larger reason.

And I think I’ve gotten used to that, that I take this simple shit that’s really not a big deal and I extrapolate from that something larger and more terrible about the state of my life.

So, you know what? Fuck it. I’m not going to call Sarcastro and complain that I’m an idiot and don’t know what I’m doing and beg him to help me. I’m just going to go back to Lowe’s and get the right shit.

If I have to call and beg for help, I want it to be because I can’t both hold the door in place and put the screws in, not because I need someone to hold my hand in the store.

Also, I finally found the drain zipper things that Exador told me about many months ago, that’s supposed to unclog your drains by, I guess, cutting up the hair stuck down there. I’m not sure. They come with a crazy warning about being careful to not cut yourself.

Folks, I am so excited to be doing something potentially dangerous in my tub that I’m going to go try it before I head back to Lowe’s.

Media Bias

S-town Mike has a good post today about the problem with Channel 2 making a big deal out of the fact that some recent protestors came from out of state and he wonders if the media ever asks conservative protestors where they’re from.

It’s only tangentially related to my point, but if you can’t use the internet to make spurious, yet interesting, connections, what can you use it for?*

So, to my point–media bias. I already watch a shit-ton of news. But being on vacation? I’m up to my elbows in news.

And I’ve been watching with an eye on whether television media is biased towards a liberal or conservative viewpoint. And, I have to say, I’ve noticed something even more disturbing than blatant political bias–television news is biased towards the stupid.

Yesterday, we watched a cat fall out of a tree at least seven times. Today, MSNBC briefly mentioned that the IRS is going to expand the companies to which it sells our tax returns. I thought they were saying that the IRS was going to sell our information to these folks without our permission. The Butcher was under the impression that we could opt out of the program.

This would seem to me to be the kind of story that could use a little explanation if two smart people are confused by your fifteen second story. But no, if the news were to do more than just mention it in passing, if it had to take another thirty seconds to clarify, we couldn’t spend three minutes talking to the girl who found money in the walls of a house hit by Katrina.

On national news.

No wonder we’re a nation of ill-informed idiots.

*Yes, porn. Very funny, smart-asses.