Gender-Free Parenting

If you haven't heard, this Canadian couple has decided to keep the gender of their baby, Storm, a secret in order to free him or her from societal norms.
Check out this great MSN video: ‘Storm’ of controversy over gender-free parenting

Now, I get the concept and I understand the meaning behind this but, are they just being progressive for the sake of being progressive or what? Aside from the fact that their name choices (Storm's older siblings are named Jazz and Kio.) sound as if these two are more-suited for dog ownership than parenting, I feel their approach to beating societal norms may do more harm than good.

You want to teach your children that their gender does not define who they are and what they do? Great. I'm all for that. If your little boy wants to wear a dress or your daughter prefers football and trucks to dolls, so be it. Embrace and encourage this. But, we cannot ignore how our bodies are made. That's ridiculous. And would going through childhood "genderless" actually enable one to beat the stereotypes set in place by society once the child "chooses" its own gender? This is, after all, what this couple has planned for their kid. How is that any better than just saying, "We had a boy!" then allowing that boy child to be whoever or whatever he wants to be?

In order to break societal norms and change the world, we have to admit who and what we are and be proud. We have to face adversity head-on to prove to the world that we can. Black people do not have civil rights today because they once all pretended they were white.I don't shove tube socks or a sausage into the front of my pants when I go in to vote. (Easy.) We are people. All of us. If you're a closeted homosexual, get the hell out of there! There are people here who will welcome you with open arms and support you. We're fighting for you now. If you're a woman trying to make it in the corporate world, put on your damn fighting panties and get that shit done. And, if you're a man who prefers things typically classified as "ladies' stuff" then, great! You'll make a fantastic boyfriend. Who gives a shit what other people think.


Again, I understand the idea behind Kathy Witterick and David Stocker's decision, but how will they react if and when Storm grows up, chooses a gender, and disowns his/her parents for their kookiness? Bound to happen with at least one of their three offspring. Ignoring society's trivial expectations = good rebellion. Ignoring biology and anatomy= absurd.

Don't even get me started on what will happen if the kid decides its a boy then starts its period...

It's Just Hair, People!

Here is a preposterous "news" story out of Columbus, Georgia- not too far from where I grew up myself.




Pink and purple: Controversy over Columbus student's hair
She was asked to lead the Pledge of Allegiance, then told to dye her hair.
By Alison Flowers
Blackmon Road Middle School student Angelica Rosado dyed purple and pink streaks in her hair back in April. Recently, a school counselor asked her to lead the Pledge of Allegiance at an awards ceremony in Columbus.

But two days before the ceremony, Rosado was told she would need to dye her hair back to its natural color, or she couldn't take the stage.

The school has a policy against extreme hair color. The Muscogee County School District's policy guards against disruptive grooming habits.

"I'm happy with the way it looks," said Rosado's mother, Dora Moreno, a stylist who performed the dye job. "She's got a lot of compliments. I think even the principal complimented it."

Principal Marty Richburg tells News 3 he tried to reach a resolution with the family, asking Moreno to tone down her daughter's hair--something Moreno isn't willing to do because she says it would put extra stress on the hair due to required bleaching.

Richburg said Rosado is welcome to attend the ceremony, just not represent the entire school with her hair the way it is.

"It's not fair," Rosado said. "I mean, it's a free country, so why not?"

As I do not know Angelica Rosado personally, I am going out on a limb by saying she probably isn't a bad kid. When you consider the fact that she was asked to lead the Pledge of Allegiance, I feel pretty confident in this assumption. Now, I haven't stepped foot inside a middle school since 1996 and thank goodness for that. And, though I am not surprised that the minds of southern school officials have not opened in the new millennium, it enrages the 30 year-old me as much as it would my 14 year-old former self. Because, quite frankly, this is ridiculous. It's just hair.

We are living, sadly, in an era when bullying can lead to a child's suicide, school shootings are so common we are nearly desensitized by the news, and hate is so widespread we actually have to remind our children every day to not be terrified of being themselves. When I was a kid, I worried about being teased to the point of embarrassment. I was never afraid for my life. Point being, there have to be disciplinary issues in this particular school that are much more pressing than this young lady's hair. This ludicrous and asinine debate over nothing but a choice of style aside, it is the principle of the matter. Even if I did believe Rosado's colorful mane caused such a ruckus that she should be expelled, I would come to her defense on this issue because, if her hair color violated a school rule, she should have been A) called out for this weeks ago and B) not asked to lead the Pledge in the first place. I've seen some comments stating that Rosado's mother is teaching her daughter that breaking the rules is acceptable behavior. I think Blackmon Road Middle School is teaching their students the fine art of giving something away then taking it back which, in many instances, is a much more criminal offense. I understand that there is a policy which states "students cannot distract, unreasonably, the attention of other students with their grooming," but this is 2011. I doubt there are many young people out there who are blown away by the sight of purple hair at this point.

If I could say anything to Angelica it is this: I am sorry your principal is so lame. You should be thankful that your mom is so cool! Mine would have done the same thing. She would have stuck by me. When I first read the headline, I have to admit, I was expecting something really extreme. Then I saw your hair. Not only was I outraged by the ridiculousness of this entire thing, I was jealous. You look great! A really good friend of mine is in her mid-30's, she has magenta streaks in her black hair, and she works in a law firm here in Chicago. No one bats an eye. I am sorry you've got such a "controversy" on your hands. Just remember this: in some areas north of the Bible Belt, the world is changing...one purple-haired freak at a time.

"Conversation" with Dad

Me: Hello?
Dad: Hey!
Me: Hey.
Dad: What are you doin'?
Me: I'm at work.
Dad: Ahhh...well, I was just callin' to tell ya we just got back from havin' Memaw's eye taken out.
Me: What?!
Dad (laughing): She had a cataract. She's doin' real good. Doctor said it couldn't have gone any better.
Me: Well, that's good.
Dad: She's back there recoverin' right now. She'll be able to see now. And see how pretty I am!
Me: Ha!

Dad:Had a good time once that pain medicine kicked in. Yeah, I went out there, and thought it was gonna take a long time. She went in, so I thought I'd go outside, smoke me a cigarette, then I'd come in the waitin' room and watch tv. Hell, I hadn't been outside that long, I come in and she's 'bout finished. She said she walked back there and he was finishin' one up, so he just went ahead and got her done up too. Then we come home and the first thing she yells about is Tylenol. Where's the Tylenol? Jamie and Tiffany went with us, and Jamie's sick. We came over the hill and there comes this car flashing its lights. Mama says, "That car is flashing its lights." So I stop the van and it's Tiffany drivin'..she said, "I just hit a dog!" They asked if we saw a dog back there in the road and I said, "I ain't worried about no dog. I gotta get to the hospital by 7." But we didn't see a dog.

Anyway...we get down there and, Jamie's sick so he keeps coughin' and coverin' his mouth. Finally, Mama said, "Go on into the doctor and see if he can't give you somethin'" so he left. Tiffany left him there! So, Mama comes out of surgery, and Jamie had gotten a shot from the doctor. I said, "You want a ride? We're goin' to the house?" He said "Naw, Tiffany's comin' back." Then Jimmy called her and asked how everything was going and Tiffany said, "It went fine. They gave him a shot in his butt and now he's asleep." Jimmy said, "Ya'll didn't go to the hospital?" She said, "Yeah, we went." And he said "Well how's Mama?" "I don't know."
I had already told her everything went fine.

Then, we come in and Mama goes back there to the bedroom and she asked for some toast and some milk. Jimmy comes up there wantin' to know about makin' the toast and I said, "I ain't believin' as fat as you are, you don't know how to make toast." So, then I went back there and I said, "What do you want for lunch?" And she said, "Jimmy got it." I said, "Well, I can't believe it!" And I think the milk made her sick.

Me: Well, I'm really glad she's okay, but the phones are ringing. I have to get back to work.
Dad: Alright, love ya! Just thought I'd tell ya how the surgery went.

Just Long Enough (or perhaps too long)

The Idiot Gods have smiled down on me in the form of this ridiculous customer interaction. I am so thankful that I was able to work here long enough to receive this call. It is like nothing I have experienced! And that is coming from a person who once spent twenty minutes on a call with a schizophrenic girl who begged for my job and a lady who claimed she was fired because her boss was fat and bitchy.

I like to call this one "Hi. Welcome to the World."

Me: Second City Box Office?
Her: Yeah, this is the box office?
Me: Yes, it is!
Her: Oh, well I wanted Second City.
Me: This is Second City.
Her: Well, I went to your website, but it said 'Welcome to the Box Office'
Me: Right, it's the Second City box office.
Her: I want tickets for Fair and Unbalanced on the 13th of June. Is that a show you have?
Me: Yes, it is.
Her: I just don't know if this is your website. There's nothing telling me it's not, but I don't know. It says 'box office'
Me: Ma'am a box office is a general name for any place at a theater where a person could buy tickets. Every theater has a box office.
Her: Yeah, but...do you sell through TicketMaster? I'm scared to put my credit card into the computer if this isn't your site. Is your website just thesecondcityboxoffice.com?
Me: No, actually. It's just www.secondcity.com and "second" is all spelled out. We sell tickets through Laughstub. That's the ticketing system.
Her: I just don't know about buying these on here.
Me: Well, I can sell you tickets over the phone. This is...the box office for Second City, so why don't we just do that?
Her: No. No, I think I'll try this first.

For the record, I did go look at our website to see if I could clear up her confusion. If you navigate from the main page, to the show calendar, to the "Buy Tickets" tab you get to this page:


The fun did not stop there. Just as I screencapped this photo, she called back.

Her: Hi, I am trying to get these tickets off your website. I believe I just spoke with you.
Me: Yes, you did.
Her: Right, so there's no place for me to put my address. How will they mail my tickets if I don't put that in.
Me: We don't mail your tickets. You pick them up when you arrive.(She is still in some state of denial that I actually sell tickets to these shows, I guess. And then...just for shits and giggles, I finished with.) At the box office. Here.
Her: Right. Okay, so when can I get them?
Me:Any time after you place the order?
Her: But I could wait until show time?
Me: Right. So, any time after you order, you can swing by the box office and grab those tickets.
Her: Oh, I don't know where we're staying so I don't know when I can come, but before show is fine?
Me: Right.
Her: And what time could I come if I wanted to pick them up before show time?
Me: Well, the box office here at the Second City is pretty much open all day. We're here all day selling tickets and can also print ones that are already purchased for shows.
Her: Well, then I'll just buy these from the site as long as you can assure me this site is secure.
Me: Yes, ma'am. It is secure. If you went to secondcity. com, that is our website.
Her: Well, no other site sells your tickets, right?
Me: That's right!
Her: Okay, good.

She wasn't finished...

Her: Hi. I am on your website and-
Me: Yes?
Her: Well, my husband wanted me to check on this. I clicked on the tickets where it said "Welcome to the Box Office" and it took me to www.laughstub.secondcity.--
Me: Ma'am, Laughstub is our ticketing system.
Her: So this is secure?
Me: I assure you that everything will be fine with your order. I promise.

Questions Commonly Heard While You're In Rehearsals For The Show You Wrote

(And the people who ask them)
(And what you say)
(And what you wish you said)


Roommate: Where have you been? ("Where are you going?" would also work here.)
You: Rehearsal.
What your brain wants you to say: Where do you think? You know where I'm going. Same place I've been going every day/night for the past few weeks. Are you being funny? Because, I have to admit, it's breaking my heart seeing you lounge and enjoy cereal and play with the cats. Dammit! Why did I decide to be an artist?

Friend/Acquaintance: How's the show going?
You: It's good, thanks.
What your brain wants you to say: Fine, really. In fact it was going super well because that was the first five minutes I've spent not thinking about the damn thing since I put the words onto paper and now you have, of course, completely blown it. Thanks for bringing it up.
(You don't do this. These are nice people.)


Coworker: You look tired. Are you tired?
You: Yeah, sort of. Any coffee?
What your brain wants you to say: Am I tired? Is that a joke? Look at my face! Yes, I am tired. I could fall asleep on top of you, but I'm afraid you might accuse me of harassment. I am so tired that, inside, I am crying, but my tear ducts can't produce any liquid right now due to extreme exhaustion so everything is coming out in the form of vapor. Stand closer to my eyes and pretend you're chilling in one of the big mister machines at Six Flags. That'll be fun for all.

Someone at the theater where you are performing your masterpiece: Can you get me some photos for a press release?
You: Sure.
What your brain wants you to say: When? Now? Shit. Why didn't I write this thing then find someone much younger and tougher to produce it?

Director: Did you want to go over that bit one more time so it's solid?
You: Absolutely.
What your brain wants you to say: No. No, I don't. Why didn't I just write this then get someone much younger and prettier to perform it?

Director: Are you okay with cutting these few lines here?
You: Of course.
What your brain wants you to say: A few? If we cut most of them, and I just sit on the stage in silence for over half an hour, do you think the show would have the same impact? I'm loving that idea right now.

A Person: You got anything going on right now?
You: Yeah, I'm doing a one woman show at Chemically Imbalanced Comedy theater on Thursday nights starting May 19th.
What your brain wants you to say: Am I doing anything right now? I don't know. Why don't you look at posters-the first show poster to ever have my face on it, by the way- or read your damn emails or Facebook invites? Why the hell are we Facebook friends anyway? Come to my show anyway.

Another actor friend: Come to my show then we'll hang out after.
You: Okay!
What your brain wants you to say: Ha!

You: Does putting in a twelve hour day between work and rehearsals and training for a new job count as my workout, or should I be scrambling to find time for that as well.
You: Of course it does.
What your brain tells you: You little idiot. It doesn't at all. Have you lost me? Yeah, you're working and rehearsing, but you're sitting through most of those activities.
You: Yeah, but...working the brain...that...counts. That burns calories, yeah?
You: Right. Of course it does.
Brain: Fat chance. Pun intended. Tone your tummy.

Please know that I absolutely adore anyone who asks me questions about my life (within reason). This blog post is brought on by pure tiredness.

Cut out these bad habits

Here is a list of common "jokes" that we should probably all stop using:

Person 1 (who is also pregnant): I am so tired.
Person 2: Oh! Well! Just you wait 'til that little one gets here!

The saying, "It's funny because it's true," does not mean if something is true then it must also be funny. No one has ever chortled over the idea of an infant keeping them awake all hours of the night. Basking in someone's misery is really not becoming of any human being, unless the miserable person is also an incredible asshole.


Person 1: The bar is open.
Person 2: OH! a-haha! Oh, well! Thank goodness for that! Haha! That's all we care about! The important things!

Alcoholism is only funny when served with a shot of indifference. Examples:
Finding me with an up-turned bottle of wine attached to my face- funny.
My calling it out, then laughing about it- sad. It also turns me into that kid in middle school who tried cigarettes for the first time, then made certain to smoke in front of all the other students while shouting, "Oh, man! This is like, my hundredth cigarette today! Wow. Emphysema, here I come!"

Person 1: My fiance and I haven't had sex in over a week.
Person 2: Ha! Wait until you guys are married. Then you'll really miss sex.

I shouldn't have to explain to you why I don't find the idea of loveless, passionless marriages amusing. Legalize gay marriage and this may become less of an issue.

Person 1 (Who is also a kid): I don't want to go to school.
Person 2: You grow up and get a job! Then you'll beg to go back to school!

This is not entirely true. I work. I've thought about going back to school. The idea of it terrifies, bewilders, and sickens me. I don't like working either, so get off your high horse, adults! You know damn good and well that you can empathize with this school-hating child. No matter the form of compensation-monetary gains or letter grades-sitting inside all day sucks a sack of balls.

Person 1 (upon hearing a fussy child): Well. Sounds like someone's unhappy.

Right. Because your little quip just made all of us standing in line at Barnes and Noble a bit more tolerant of this disagreeable and obnoxious baby. Thank you, for that.

Person 1: I thought I'd lost my cell phone, but then I found it in between the couch cushions.
Person 2: Ha! Yeah. Well, it's always in the last place you look.

Just stop.

*Rest assured, friends. This entry has "reoccurring series" written all over it. Spending one day reading Facebook comments is evidence enough of that.*

She's preggers

Me: And, do you have any dietary restrictions or anything you feel the restaurant should be notified of ahead of time?
Him: No. Well...now, I take that back. One of the ladies in our party is with child, but I don't think the restaurant needs to know about that, do you?

*This is the only time in my life that I sincerely hope someone was being extremely condescending towards me. Otherwise, this man thought for a split second that an Italian restaurant would need advance notice of a patron's pregnancy. Fetal Chicken Parmesan Syndrome is on the rise, I guess.

Harry Lives

September 11th happened a little over two months before the first Harry Potter film hit the big screen.

Osama bin Laden is killed a little over two months before the last Harry Potter film opens.

I told you guys that dude was Voldemort!