Yeah, I'm a yuppie alright.

This article prompted the following conversation between Caroline and myself on google chat, with the inevitable conclusion that I am a yuppie. You didn't think I spent time working at work did you?

caroline: hee! That link cracks me up dude

me: me too. white people love farmer's markets!

caroline: and 80's nights!

me: and I was just saying I needed to go to the old town one soon and get some fresh fruits/veggies. I love 80s nights!

caroline: hahaha. i know!

me: but I don't think I make enough money to be a true yuppie

caroline: i don't know dude. you do own a condo.

me: hmmm. true. but! it's only like 800 sq.ft.

OMG

am I a yuppie??

caroline: it's possible that you are

me: but my cell phone is totally ghetto

and my tv is 5 years old

and my computer is held together with duct tape

I am on the verge

eeep!

caroline: HAHAHA

caroline: i think the duct tape kills it

you're safe

me: whew

caroline: for now

hee

me: what about you? you love Apple

caroline: yeah, i know. but i share a two-br apartment with two other people and two cats

i don't think that's very yuppie

although i do have a pretty new phone

and i live in the suburbs

for the moment

eek!

me: even worse. you live in ARLINGTON

caroline: dude, you live in the suburbs too

me: but, dude. Clarendon?

yuppie central

case in point, Mike lived there

caroline: but, okay, you have a point. moe even calls it "yuppieville"

me: we are probably tied

caroline: i suspect you're right

me: we both get some yuppie points deducted for being government workers

caroline: woot!

me: so now I have to put this conversation on my blog

which probably proves that I am, in fact, a yuppie

caroline: ...yes, i suspect it does

me: well, I am sure as hell taking you with me

caroline: HAHAHA

I said YUPPIE.

That's more like it.

Actually, I think the biggest clue that we are both yuppies is how many times we both say, "dude." I never really noticed it before now.

Satire or just bad taste? You decide

Gene Weingarten from The Washington Post spent a lot of time today in his online chat talking about this article. It was written by a college student and was intended to be a scathing satire on the subject of racism at his school (think Jonathan Swift and the Irish eating their babies).

Apparently, a lot of people didn't get the joke. The author was forced to apologize and to attend "racial sensitivity" classes, and was suspended from his college newspaper. Which I find, frankly, ridiculous.

Don't get me wrong, it's not the best example of satire. The story in the beginning about the Asian kid at the racquetball court was confusing, and I don't really see how it fits into the article as a whole. But it was clear (to me at least) from the very beginning that it was meant to be funny. And I laughed out loud a couple times, especially when the butterfly nets were broke out.

But you know what? It was clearly a joke. And the fact that the kid was punished for writing is completely wrong. Satire is supposed to be irreverent, it's supposed to be upsetting, it's supposed to make you THINK about the TRUTH the author is reaching around (pun intended).

In fact, from dictionary.com:

Satire: the use of irony, sarcasm, ridicule, or the like, in exposing, denouncing, or deriding vice, folly, etc.

So, seriously Boulder, Colorado? Are you really that sensitive?

File this one under lame.

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Although the unofficial moto for today is, "everyone is Irish on St. Patrick's Day," I take delight in the fact that I am actually Irish. Go, me! But I do expect everyone to wear green or be pinched. I even threatened my judge with pinching. And in a delightful bonus, he promised not to file a sexual harassment claim!

I knew today would go well when on the Metro this morning I saw two (count 'em, two!) hot red-headed boys. Yay! And then the mechanic called me and told me my car was an easy fix and would NOT cost me thousands of dollars as I had feared all day yesterday.

Tonight the Riley clan (that is, my non-Jewish relatives) are indulging in a good-old fashioned Irish supper with corn beef, cabbage, potatoes, and soda bread. You can take the immigrant out of Ireland, but you can't take the potatoes out of the immigrant. Or something along those lines.

In the spirit of St. Pat's, check out this article from The Washington Post about red-heads. Very gripping stuff. I have to say, my red hair never made my feel like an outsider. I was never really teased about it or anything. There were SO MANY other things for children to tormet me about, I guess the hair thing never really came up.

And here's a website devoted to Irish jokes (warning: some are quite lame). Here is my fav:

--An Englishman, an Irishman and a Scotsman were reading a newspaper article about which nationalities' brains were for sale for transplant purposes. An Irishman's or a Scotsman's brain could be bought for £500 but an Englishman's brain cost £10,000. That proves,' said The Englishman, 'that Englishmen are much cleverer than Irishmen or Scotsmen.'
'No it doesn't,' said The Irishman, 'it just means that an Englishman's brain has never been used.'

AHHHHH MOTHERLAND!

Currently Watching: The Amazing Mrs. Pritchard. Great BBC show!

Currently Reading: The Judas Strain, by James Rollins. Think Tom Clancy, but easier to follow and with more fuzzy science. It's all about a scientist secret agents! No, seriously, it is.

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince preview!!!

Awesome.

Things we know:

1) Matt Lewis hot

2) the scene with Draco and Harry hiding in the train car will be in the film

3) Emma looks good with blonde hair

4) Poor Rupert is never going to live down macking with Lavender Brown

Ladies and gents, I bring you....the Gayest Songs Of All Time!

I won't ruin the surprise for you, but let's just say I don't disagree with the top 10.

Spring spelled backward is Gnirps!

I know that it's only the beginning of March, but it really feels like Spring is right around the corner. Most people love to wax philosophic about Spring; how it's a time of renewal, how much they love warm weather and tanning and skin cancer, and they love seeing the little trees bud, yadda yadda. Me? I don't like Spring. There. I said it.

It's just....it gets hot, ok? I don't like hot weather. I like layering clothes and wearing cute sweaters and boots and I really really REALLY hate sweating. Remember, this is DC. It's so humid here you can literally see makeup leaking off people's faces. It ain't pretty folks. And while I don't have allergies, when I go to my car and the pollen is so deep I have to use an ice scraper to get it off, something is not right.

The one thing I will begrudgingly give Spring is that it provides beautiful evenings. After being holed up in my windowless office all day, when I can come home, open all my windows, and enjoy a nice breeze it sure does feel good. And I SUPPOSE all the new plant growth means it smells nice outside. And there is something to be said for not freezing my butt off at 6:30 in the morning waiting for the bus. But I am NOT about to run outside and start singing songs about how great Spring is, or how cute little lambs are when they are born, or any of that other lame movie-musical Spring stuff. No siree. Not now, not ever.

Cherry blossoms are pretty too. Damn you, Spring!