January 2006: The Dawning of The Age of Dorrit

The only thing I'll say about a resolution for 2006 is that it's going to be better than 2005. Really, I'm going to make sure it is. How? This year it's going to be my way or the highway. I'm taking no prisoners--or crap--from anyone or anything. If anything isn't working for me, it better be changed so it does work for me, or it'll be jettisoned, period. No whining, in print or in person. Just gone. 2006 is going to be my equivalent of "The Summer of George." I have a plan; I have a vision; I have gone Zen. (Or at least as Zen as a bitchy, angry, middle-aged white woman can possibly be.)

I may be getting a little ahead of myself, since I have a feeling 2007 will be even better than 2006, but I'm using this year to prepare. I guess I should start calling this period "The Age of Dorrit," since it's going to span more than one year. There are three mantras for The Age of Dorrit:

1. Self awareness is the only way to enlightenment
2. Have faith that everything happens for a reason
3. Don't make me put my baby down.
(NOTE: the last one is the most important, and the one I expect to get the most use out of)

Okay, so since this isn't about resolutions, it's going to be about a few assorted things that bug me (which I think is the same thing I did last year at this time), in no particular order.

The New York City Transit Workers Union/NY Politicians
Luckily, I was out of town and missed the entire illegal strike, although that didn't stop me from bitching about it. Here's what I want to know: if it was completely illegal for these bastards to strike, why weren't all of them arrested as soon as they walked off the job? Not just the "leaders," I mean the rank and file? The ones on the illegal picket lines. Politicians make these laws about a strike being illegal, but then none of them have the balls to actually enforce that law. If I broke a law, I'd be arrested. Why weren't they?
I blame: Unions/Spineless politicians/The Media

Those Stupid Slacker Winter Hats
You know the ones I mean, some sort of knit, two ear flaps with strings hanging off them, and a weird pointy top. Apparently its real name is a "chullo." They were popular back in the mid-70s for maybe one winter, and then they were only worn by hard-core hippie types. Now they're worn by seemingly every other slacker on the planet. And, just like those short bangs that Mamie Eisenhower and many drag queens seem to favor, they just don't look good on anyone over the age of 12. (You all look like complete idiots; trust me on this.) I have more respect for people who go all out and just wear a fur mad bomber hat. Sure, that's also stupid and you look completely nuts, but at least you're making a better fashion statement, and showing some independence as opposed to only following the many people/one brain "slacker mind collective."
I blame: South America/Slackers/The Media

Tom Cruise
Some people say he's gone crazy. I disagree; I think he's always been crazy. You know, it's one thing to have these wacky scientologists running around Hollywood and occasionally mentioning their so-called "religion." Hey, it was founded by a failed science fiction writer, and the book "Dianetics," is possibly the most incomprehensible tome I have ever tried to read. (And I was in my 20s then and actually did have an attention span.) That says it all to me. So the general policy should be to never give these people airtime, on the off chance that they may bring scientology into the conversation even peripherally. When you have this pompous, high-school-graduate talking head spouting off about how he "knows the history of psychiatry," his plug must be permanently pulled, because he's become far too dangerous to live in everyday, rational (read: "nonscientological") society. But what happens? Even after the infamous couch-jumping episode, he just keeps showing up on TV show after TV show, including "The Today Show," (AKA MediaWhore Central) and in article after article.
I blame: His Mother/The Media

Andrew Lloyd Weber's "Phantom" Becomes Longest-Running Broadway Show Ever
The Apocalypse is obviously right around the corner, repent. And start hoarding canned goods.
I blame: Out-of-Towners With No Taste/The Media

"The L Word" Still Sucks
If I hate it so much why do I still watch it? Two reasons: it's the only game in town and Sarah Shahi. The writing is just bad: incredibly heavy handed, predictable, unrealistic and humorless. Dana is supposed to be madly in love with Alice, but just because she runs into an ex, all of sudden she's madly in love with the ex? And Alice, who up until then had been a little flakey but overall was often the voice of reason, completely goes off the deep end over Dana, so much that she needs to be constantly medicated? Kit, a woman obviously close to (if not already in) her 60s, has all the common symptoms of menopause and then is completely surprised when that's the diagnosis? Is she just retarded or completely in denial about her age? Helena's only connection to the group was Tina; everyone--especially Alice--thought she was a tool. Tina's back with Bette, but instead of vanishing, all of a sudden Helena is Alice's best friend? Last but not least, is there any doubt in anyone's mind that Tina will get involved with the faggy (not in the good way, either) man mom she met at whatever that freakish baby activity was that they attended? Or that Dana will have full-on breast cancer before the season is over? And it's great that they finally have a REAL butch character. But couldn't they have cast one who could actually act? (Perhaps it is too soon for that judgment; we'll see...)

Only game in town or not, I'm getting real tired of this crap. And as a lesbian, I'm starting to take it as a personal affront, i.e., I don't want the hoi polloi thinking all lesbians are superficial, histrionic jackasses who rip off their shirts at the drop of a hat, and who, even though some of them have no discernable source of income, can all afford top-of-the-line Apple Powerbooks, and who have absolutely no taste in music, e.g., Betty needs to be sent to the cornfield. For good. And wouldn't you know, just when I'm finally ready to say "Enough, I'm switching to "Campus Ladies" Sunday nights at 10," Dana Delaney is in the coming attractions. And I would watch Dana Delaney open an envelope, so they have me for at least as long as she sticks around.

NOTE TO HBO: please do a good, realistic show about lesbians. One that's set in New York City and where all the characters are in their 30s/40s+, don't wear designer clothes or drive fabulous expensive cars, and who would laugh out loud at anyone practicing something as ridiculous as "attachment parenting." A lesbian Seinfeld/Friends. It would work, and can be done. CALL ME.
I blame: Ilene Chaiken/Rose Troche/The Showtime Producers
(The media is off the hook for once.)

Financial Planning Companies Targeting Baby Boomers
According to these companies (Amerprise, Fidelity), I am supposed to have enough money that I need someone else to help me manage it for the future. Well, I don't have that kind of money. Not only that, I don't know anyone my age who does. Not even my brother, and he's close to 60. Who are these people with all the money? You know, the ones in the commercials who all have grey hair but still look all happy and groovy and productive. I want some addresses so I can go rob their houses. I believe the ultimate message here, at least how it relates to me, is: I am not living the life of white man, so I have no money and therefore I have no future. (Except the future of trying to get hooligan children to throw tomatoes at me so I have something to eat when I'm 90.) Despite the glut of these images and commercials to the contrary, there is another kind of baby boomer. The one Johnny Rotten described best in 1977, back when I still regularly wore my "Eat the Rich" t-shirt: "We're pretty vacant, and we don't care." We still don't care. (And we still don't have enough money to need "managing.")
I blame: The Media/The Man

Anyone Over 40 Who Uses the Terms "Homie," "Peep," and especially "Dude"
I think we all know I'm all for not getting/acting old. But there are things you can get away with, and some things you can't get away with. This is one of the "can'ts." It makes you sound like you're trying too hard, period. (Because you are.) It's the verbal equivalent of wearing a baseball cap backwards. Don't do it.
I blame: No one but the offenders themselves.

The Age of Dorrit: learn it, know it, love it. And don't confuse it with the Age of Aquarius.