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19

Oct

"Don’t you know that a man being rich is like a girl being pretty? You wouldn’t marry a girl just because she’s pretty, but my goodness, doesn’t it help?"

Marilyn Monroe and Jane Russell in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)

18

Oct

Real Tall-k

Let me start out by saying I like being tall. This is not a woe-is-me bitch & moan fest about the plight of bumping your head on door frames or overhead bins or tree branches or emergency exit signs (see here, here, & here). What I will say though is that being tall comes with it’s own very specific set of challenges. And after 23 years of being vertically gifted, I think it’s safe to say I know a thing or two about the subject. In fact, it’s one of the few things I would go so far as to call myself an expert on. The list goes: 1) Being tall, 2) Tripping, 3) Seinfeld.

Let me spin you a yarn real quick here: Just now, I took a quick break from writing this to go grab lunch. On my way to the commissary, a man stopped me to say, “What are you, 6’5?…You’re taller than me!” Now, I’m not 6’5 and this man was maybe 5’9 on a good day so yeah duh a lot of people are taller than you, sir, but no big deal. Questions about how tall I am don’t really bother me. It’s the follow up comments where things get uncomfortable. “Man, you make me feel short!” or “Wow, you’re so tall!” or in today’s case, “You’re taller than me!” It’s not generally considered good conversation to just blurt out facts at people. Emily Post would back me up on this one. What exactly is the proper response to “You make me feel short?” “Sorry”? And everyone’s always got a snarky response to suggest to me, like, “That’s because you are short!” or, “Sucks for you.” But that shit’s rude and I’m not looking to get into tussle 4 times a day. I’m building an empire here. My favorite suggestion is the how’s-the-weather-up-there-raining-*spit* classic that every single person thinks they’re the first to tell me about (like I’ve never read Bazooka Joe). As though just because I’m tall I’m now expected to go around spitting on people. I’m tall, not a sociopath. Plus, I’m pretty sure spitting on people has been officially outlawed since February 26, 2006.

Honestly, I’m usually not thinking about my height until someone brings it up. And really, why would I? If someone told you that they were thinking about how 5’6 they are in between bites of oatmeal this morning, wouldn’t you think that’s a little weird? But, inevitably I’m reminded by someone or some compact car with very little headroom. Sometimes I’ll go through dry spells where no one says anything about it, but that often just means a big storm’s a-brewin’. It leaves me a little caught off guard the next time it does happen.

Case and point is a little story I like to call, “The Ultimate Balk.” A few months ago, I was playing softball as part of a co-worker recreational league. As I was lacing up and watching the game before ours, the umpire from the game in progress saw me and started asking me about my height. It was the usual, “Wow, you’re tall! How tall are you?” (pitch thrown) “You play basketball or volleyball?” (second pitch) “They’d go crazy for you in the women’s basketball league here!” (third pitch). Out of respect for the sanctity of the game, I answered quickly and warmed up out of sight so the ump could focus on calling the game at hand. Alright, so maybe this guy doesn’t get out much. Or maybe he was raised in Cambodia or some sort of Andamanese Tribe. No big deal. I’m happy to oblige. I generally assume that the people who ask are just genuinely curious and there’s no harm in that. Little did I know the sweaty, sweaty floodgates had just burst open.

I had the unfortunate pleasure of playing catcher for a pretty long inning (we weren’t very good), so it was just me and ol’ Gape-y Gus side-by-side for 15 years 20 minutes. “What’s your name?…What do people call ya? Melanie, Mel, BIG Mel, Amazon? HA.” Seem like a lot of yucking it up for someone who needs to pay attention and give a call on every pitch (and there were quite a few pitches…we.were.not.good.) to have with another person who needs to catch every aforementioned pitch? That’s because it is. Between badgerings, I tagged someone out at home and looked to him to confirm the out, to which he replied, “You should have knocked ‘er out! Picked ‘er up over your head and tore her in half like a true Amazon! Like King Kong!” Now, that, my friends, is some ignorant shit.


Which brings me to my main point here: everybody wanna talk like they got somethin’ to say. Eminem’s said it, Kweli said it, Tebow said it. People will always have a comment for us tallun’s about our height whether it be completely innocent or wildly offensive. It’s as sure a thing as basics loving “I (heart) Haterz” shirts or Bath & Body Works Gift Cards. And just when you think you’ve heard it all, life sends you a sweaty, obnoxious work-league umpire and you realize you ain’t even heard the half of it. But that’s OK! Embrace it, my heightened honeys. Let people say what they gonna say and let it roll off your elongated back. At the very least it keeps things interesting. And take comfort in knowing that you can always bolt in the night to Norway, Denmark, or any of the Nordic countries really. Where the tall roam free.
 


Till next time y’all.

16

Oct

11

Oct

Who gon’ stop me

Who gon’ stop me

Fletcher’s Finest

Fletcher’s Finest

05

Oct

Commit to loving yourself completely. It’s the most radical thing you will do in your lifetime.

Andrea Gibson

(via twloha)

https://mtc.cdn.vine.co/r/videos/ED0CEAB0091052152030254735360_1bf740477d1.4.8.3655977348566060799.mp4?versionId=TKYCTH7JtsMyvBts.gMj2zY7PNtCmtMM

This gal

Feeling nostalgic

(Source: versacekardashian)

22

Sep

vintagegal:

Overlooking Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, 1956 by David Boyer (via)

vintagegal:

Overlooking Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, 1956 by David Boyer (via)

12

Jul

It’s Me, Snitches!

Stop the presses: I’M BACK! Less in an Eminem highly anticipated, back-by-popular-demand type of way and more in a Limp Bizkit “Huh, You Left?” type of way. You might be wondering what brought me back to the wonderful world of Tumblr. Well, I’ve started up again on that weight loss grind and boy oh boy is it a #struggle. I thought maybe this time around I would try to share my experience a little with the good people of Tumblr. To recap: I lost a pretty sizable amount of weight in college between my sophomore and senior years through the tried and true method of diet and exercise. Then I took a little involuntary/who-am-I-kidding-totally-voluntary break last year while I was on that intern/job search hustle and put a little bit back on. I’m still on the job hustle, I’m just not using it as an excuse not to work out or eat right anymore. Anyway, I’m about 2-3 months in and I’m down about 25 lbs. so far.

I know what you’re thinking: why didn’t you start this 2 months ago or even 3 years ago when you first started losing the weight? The answer is simple: I’m not great under pressure. Just ask my mom or my brother or my 6th grade AYSO soccer team. And sometimes not even real pressure but the imaginary kind, like passing the same person in the hall at work twice or counting out exact change at the grocery store. The results can be unpredictable. I like to think it’s part of my charm, the other members of the 1999 AYSO Bee-Ware would say it’s part of what cost us the semi-finals.

I went back and forth a little bit about talking openly about this here but then I realized 2 things: A) No one reads this shit & B) Who gives a shit? It’s my blog, snitches! This weight loss journey (*throws up everywhere*) has been a lengthy one with it’s share of ups and downs, but writing about it has always been a big help. Maybe posting about it here will be a second line of defense in keeping me accountable. Getting healthy ain’t no joke, people. Unlike, but also very much like, Beyoncé I did not wake up like this. It took hours of San Fernando Valley spin classes bonding with 40+ year old women, countless hikes through the hills of Berkeley including one during which a little old lady hit me with her 1998 champagne Lexus LS, gaggles of girl push-ups, and dozens of skipped meals. I kid, I kid. Never starve yourself. I’ve lived in California my entire life and almost didn’t pass a class called “Introduction to Oceans.” You should never take any scientific advice from me. The point is, I’m going for Round 2 and you’re along for the ride. And if you have any questions about my commitment to exercise, just remember you this: I passed the same dead rat 6 times on one of my walks this week. 6 times. As the great Kanye West said, who gon’ stop me?

But it won’t all just be BMI and Smart Ones Key Lime Pie talk, Tumblr. I’m a dynamic, multifaceted individual living an illustrious life. Currently, I’m chaperoning my brother’s pool party, which looks an awful lot like laying in bed with the curtains drawn watching “The Lusty Men” on TCM. I don’t know a whole lot about kids these days and their parties, but there’s entirely too much singing going on so far. 3 songs in 30 minutes seems like a ratio for trouble. Singing is for in the shower or in the car until you accidentally make eye contact with the person in the car next to you in the middle of “Last Friday Night (T.G.I.F.)” and all the blood drains from your face.

Anyway, I’m trying to tap dance along the line of good daughter guilted into spending her Saturday night watching a bunch of college kids get drunk while her parents are in Wine Country and effortlessly cool sister who’s not trying to harsh anyone’s mellow. It’s a delicate dance, Tumblr, but it mostly just means not being seen or heard unless someone breaks something. Unfortunately, I lack the appropriate Milford training so I will probably have to sneak out to prepare a surreptitious cup of tea, but isn’t that cool in a very meta sort of way? I’m nothing if not meta.

Well I think that about covers it. Make sure to tune in next week when I’ll either be discussing the plight/glory of being tall or quantum mechanics. Not sure which yet…

(Side note: I know this is a controversial opinion, but I feel like I gotta put it out there. “It’s Me Bitches” was hands down the most underrated song of ‘07. There, I said it. And if it wasn’t playing in the delivery room during the birth of Little Baby Egypt Beatz, well that’s just a national travesty. Check the kicks: )

image

24

Apr

After I’ve Pulled An All-Nighter

05

Jan

Victory #Cal #GoBears

Victory #Cal #GoBears

31

Dec

Mmmmm

Mmmmm

25

Dec

Merry Christmas to me Part 2

Merry Christmas to me Part 2