There has obviously been a huge helpful stud drought in my life(Not that y'all aren't foamy and awesome, but you aren't close enough to schlep for me. Not that I'm as cute as they are.)

I've looked at wheelchair ramps that have a "tiny" one-inch lip where the ramp meets the sidewalk, and I just shake my head in disbelief. Even a souped-up power chair would have to get a run on that.

Good thoughts, TB. I need to mull them over(Not too much...deadlines.) But I guess it would be cheating just to write "You were supposed to let me play...this *America*, man." Even though I could probably also do it in Spanish.

From you the few pictures I've seen of you, you are pretty darn cute. Now my judgement may not mean much, cause I'm of a much older generation than you. Still, I expect people in your age range who met you would agree with my evaluation.

Oh, yeah, Connie. Bad ramps should be a photoblog.(There probably is a tumblr, or something...holycrapthat'saramp?) I had one outside my place in college...thought I would die every day. Now, go learn and be productive.

Aw, thanks Gar.All BIDs aside, though, those chicks approach being femme like it's their job.(And now, it kind of is. I look like that...maybe five nights a year. Maybe it would be different with a camera crew, but maybe that would activate some perverse David Simon/Popeye Doyle instinct in me and I'd look like I rolled out of bed all the time.) I guess I could write about that...how the spectrum that people see is, like, "Nursing home hell," or Push Girls and Paralympians. And if you're born with it, like I was, you sort of disappear once, you know, you're not a camper, or your high school makes some school-spirit gesture like putting you on homecoming court. Which didn't happen for me, but I did find a cup that I supposedly "won" when I was a freshman for "most spirited student"...I have no clue.

or your high school makes some school-spirit gesture like putting you on homecoming court.

I saw that. And I couldn't help thinking "So how many people will still be her friend next week?" It's a great scene for the power-ballad climax of the movie, but what happens when the cameras are off?

in my experience, they don't take your calls.(I mean, I'm sure they like her, but in the immortal words of the Breakfast Club, they don't take her out to the parking lot to get high. She's a mascot. Just like I was a mascot.)

I'm as guilty as anyone on two good feet of being blind to the disabled kids in my schools, but I always felt so uncomfortable when they'd be pointed out in assemblies and such. And the ones who didn't want to be touted for their bravery and guts and all that were always looked at funny, like they weren't following the script.

Not that I made a point of befriending those kids who wanted to keep their dignity. I'll own that guilt.

How about "My Life as a Mascot?"

I hope I'm sensitive to this, since I've spent some time on crutches and a couple of years in which stairs meant agony. What bothers me is the people who think something is "accessible" if the person in the wheelchair can get in if she asks people to lift her up a step, or she has to go in through a back entrance that has to be unlocked. It seems to me that "accessible" should mean "accessible without help." That's probably because I'm pathologically unable to ask for help.

There's a music venue here that has a roomy accessible bathroom stall, which would be cool if there was any way to get to it without climbing steep stairs.