You've read most of what I've said wrongly, for the record.

And what I've said as well.

There is a world of difference between "here is what IS" and "here is what SHOULD BE."

Oof, Teppy. I hope the universe lightens up on you VERY GODDAMN SOON.

This.

There is a world of difference between "here is what IS" and "here is what SHOULD BE."

Same here. Because no one, NO ONE, should feel they have to do that stuff, and I get pissed that society crams that message down women's throats.

On the other hand, I decided a long time ago that it is easier for me personally to game the system, and see if I can work to change those fucked-up messages by trying to subvert society.

Mysterious construction turns out to be installation of a water pump. The melting snow is all in our basement.

I've never felt like I HAD to play up any pretty I possess, I just pulled it out when I thought it would be of use.

Oh, Tep. I hate that the universe is raining shit down on you. Nothing worse than dealing with death and other mega-stressy stuff while in serious physical pain and discomfort. It just brings everything up to ELEVENTY right away.

I hope you don't hate me for snickering at this line in your previous post, though:

He's had run-ins with the law and whatnot, like you do.

Tep, you feel overwhelmed because you ARE overwhelmed with a shitstorm life is throwing at you. Both of you. I hope it starts to let up, like now.

One thing I will say is that looking pretty and acting nice and friendly are two different things that often reinforce each other: when you act friendly, smile big, etc., I think it creates the perception that you are attractive, especially for women. And if you're feeling attractive, you're more likely to act confident and outgoing, and maybe that's perceived as friendliness. So it can be hard to tell how much of the treatment you're getting in a particular interaction is from one or the other.

Yes, this.

my first world problems, let me show you them: i usually swim on friday afternoons which is lovely because the fun pool (for the kids) is closed and there's rarely enough lap swimmers to make for more than one person to a lane. And as all you swimmers know, being able to do your entire workout with a lane all to yourself? A marvelous thing. Truly wonderful. Today i went earlier than usual because i had a massage scheduled at 2. I showed up at the pool just before noon. Bad idea. kiddie pool open, lap lanes crowded with lunchtime swimmers. But i was sharing a lane with a gal who swims faster than me, but that propelled me to swim faster than usual. And of course the showers and locker room were packed with small children and mothers, never a calming experience. As i was leaving, my LMT called and said she had to cancel. So i went through all the crowding and screaming and annoyance-making for no good reason at all.

But i did use the extra hours of sunlight (holy crap, sunlight!) to turn my compost pile and prep the big raised bed. Then i went totally crazy and planted onions, parsnip, beet and carrot seeds. My Portland "Veggie Calendar" says it's still several weeks to early to plant any of those, but i was on a roll.

I have nothing of substance to contribute to gender discussion, aside from the fact that i went through a decade-long phrase of kicking anyone who called me "cute" because i found it demeaning and wanted to be noticed for my brilliant intellect and sparkling wit. I earned the alias "shin-kicker" as a result and of course every male friend i had would use the word incessantly to goad me. Females, OTOH, totally got the irritation.

I find the whole lipstick/cleavage leverage to only work in bars/nightclubs or other places where there is a distinct advantage to NOT fading into the background (e.g faster service at the bar.) For work? I wash my face and comb my hair and put on clean clothes that cover pretty much everything except my face and hands. The biases are there. The inequality is there. It pisses me off, and i could rant for hours about social expectations wrt makeup, but i'm hungry.

What Jilli Said WRT to gaming and subverting.

Steph, ~ma. and Damn!

Can you at least spend the weekend hiding out from a lot of this?

Not really. I brought work home that no-question 100% MUST get done before Monday, and I didn't get any done today because I just got home from the memorial about 30 minutes ago. And I'm going to be worrying about Tim's ex's son all weekend. (Well, that sounds altruistic; what I mean is, I'm going to be worried that once he gets out of jail he won't be allowed to move to Texas because of his probation. And if he doesn't move, I know we will be keeping his dog. And I will resent the HELL out of him and of Tim if that's the case.)

(To be fair, Tim doesn't want him to have to stay in Ohio. Hell, he rented the guy a U-Haul. So it's not like Tim and I are on opposite sides, here. It's just that Tim feels a responsibility to this kid [well, not a kid, obviously], and I *understand* that. I respect that. I think it's amazing that he was willing to not only treat his ex's kids like members of his family, but to continue to keep up with the son after he and the ex became, well, exes. It's just that Tim's sense of responsibility *is* impacting MY life, at a time when it's also stressful beyond reckoning.)

Tim's returning the U-Haul to the U-Haul rental place tonight, because it was rented for only 5 days, prior to the whole jail thing. And this way he saves a lot of money on it (he paid for it). And, he said, once the ex's son gets out of jail, and he's SURE that he can go to Texas without it being a probation violation, they'll rent the U-Haul again, and pack him up and send him off.

Which makes total sense to me. Except it's given me this pit of doom in my stomach. Returning the U-Haul seems like a giant goddamn neon sign from the universe reading, "STEPH YOUR LIFE IS FUCKED YOU GET A NEW DOG AND AN UNEMPLOYED 31-YEAR-OLD SURLY TATTOOED PIERCED DUDE ON YOUR COUCH BY THE WAY FUCK YOUUUUUUUUU!"

I know that when I moved in, when we merged our lives, it meant taking on each other's shit just as surely as if we got married. But -- and perhaps I was unpardonably naive -- I didn't realize it meant that I would be taking on his ex-girlfriend's son's shit as well. It's selfish as hell, but all I keep thinking is, "This kid is NOT, actually, even YOUR son. What the FUCK."

We're going to get through it. And -- though I don't know the specifics about his case -- I *think* that serving these 5 days means his probation is over. AND even if it's not, I also think (though I am admittedly not sure) that probation can transfer from one state to another.

Yet one more problem with this whole debacle is that, like a lot of people, his ex's son doesn't understand the technical fiddly bits about the law. (I'm not even sure he knows what the warrant for his arrest was actually legally for.) Once he's released on Tuesday (at 5 a.m., what the FUCK), he has to meet with his probation officer. The jail and the justice center are 2 different locations, like 10 miles apart. Well, his car is at the justice center, not the jail. Why would it be at the jail? So when he's released Tuesday morning at motherfucking 5 a.m., Tim is going up there (about 45 minutes away) to pick him up and take him to the justice center to meet with his probation officer.

I told Tim to go in to the meeting with his ex's son, to make sure that he understands everything. Well, today the ex (mom of the kid) called the probation officer to find out what in the hell was actually going on, and the officer said he can't discuss that with anyone but the son. Which I assume means that Tim can't go in to the meeting on Tuesday.

Which takes me back to my worry that if it's the kid and the probation officer, then maybe the officer will explain stuff in such a way that he won't actually understand it.

I just have such a horrible feeling about this in the pit of my stomach. My migraine hasn't gone away despite narcotics, and I can't eat. This is lousy all the way around.

I hope you don't hate me for snickering at this line in your previous post, though:

He's had run-ins with the law and (continued...)