Yummy yummy yummy I got love in my tummy

I ate a new flavor of ice-cream the other day called Denali Bear Claw. It's basically a creamy dark chocolate ice-cream with goopy caramel swirls and little chocolate coated cashew clusters.

It tasted like there was a party in my mouth... and everyone was getting it on. Aw yeah.

What foods make you ecstatically happy? (And why aren't you eating a big bowl of them right now instead of reading this nonsense?)

Reader Poll: Change or stay the same?

Mr. And Candy and I have been watching The Marriage Ref. Basically, if you haven't watched it, married couples submit their arguments for dissection and resolution by the host, Tom Papa, and a variety of celebrity panelists. Whoever wins according to the host has to give up the argument and concede defeat, but all the couples get a fabulous luxury holiday just for being on the show, so don't cry too hard for the losers!

I'm sure you will think me a philistine for enjoying it but I do. It is not so hard to recognize oneself in the petty yet deeply felt arguments of other married folk, and of course the smug feeling of superiority when viewing arguments much more petty, ridiculous and or lower class than one's own is hugely enjoyable.

Anyway. One of the recent arguments was a husband who wanted his wife to change her last name to his, and she didn't want to. Part, but not all, of her reasoning was that she worked in radio and was known by her "maiden" name professionally.

The panelists pretty much agreed that it was up to her, except then it kind of veered off into "She should be allowed to keep it professionally but she should change it in her personal life like for checking accounts and so on" - this is exactly what the two female panelists, Kelly Ripa (Consuelos) and Demi Moore (Kutcher) had done, after all. To be honest with you I was sort of shocked that these other arguments were even brought up, especially by women, because to me this is a case where "I don't want to" is an end-of-story type deal.

I just kind of assumed in today's modern world that since we no longer view women as property changing hands from father to husband that it had become a matter of choice solely up to the woman (seeing as her life is the only one affected). I changed mine, because I wanted to. I probably wouldn't have if his last name had been worse than mine, like, Maggott or Fartstein or something.

What do the wise citizens of the blogosphere have to say on this matter?

Over to You: And now for something completely different...

What do you guys think of t-shirts with stuff written on them?

I do love witticisms on t-shirts, but being petite of frame means I have to choose very short ones, and being a girl means I have to think carefully about whether I really want to give anyone an excuse to stare at my chest - "What? I was just reading your t-shirt!"

But I like them on other people, as long as they're funny and/or witty and not some lame garbage like "Female Body Inspector" or "I'm with Stupid". One of my all-time favorites is "I found Jesus... He was behind the couch the whole time."

What's your favorite t-shirt witticism? Or alternatively, what's one you WISH was on a t-shirt?

Yeah, you.

Dear Mr. Complete Stranger in the Street*,

No, I do not want a ride in your vehicle. I learned not to get into a stranger's car when I was five years old.

No, I'm not telling you my name or number, and no, I'm not telling you where I live, or work, or where I'm going right now. You do not have the right to that information. Being female in a public street does not make me public property. Furthermore, none of these questions are appropriate conversation starters.

No, I am not flattered by you shouting at me from across the road that I am sexy, or by you muttering under your breath about physical acts you would like to perform with me. It is threatening, dehumanizing and offensive for you to reduce me to an object that exists for your commentary.

No, your (loudly expressed) opinion of my body or parts thereof does not entitle you to any of my attention. I am not being rude when I, paralyzed and fearful, pretend I did not hear what you said, you are being rude by saying it.

No, I do not have time for you. Regardless of whether my "man" would "trip" over it. I resent the implication that my man's opinion is the one that matters in this instance.

I resent that you made me feel that I had to let you know I was married to ensure my physical safety, because I knew from past experience that my own clear disinterest was not sufficient for you to leave me alone. You cross the line into being a clear threat to my safety when neither my polite disinterest nor even the fact of my marriage (read: unavailability) is enough to stop you from following me down the (otherwise empty) street and making further comments about my physical appearance.

I would love to be able to say "Sorry, I am not interested in you", but I know if I do, you will at least call me a bitch, and potentially become aggressive and physically threatening.

I hate that my concern for my physical safety in the moment means I have done nothing to dissuade you from harassing me and other women again.




*Note: This is an amalgam of too many street encounters both recent and past. This doesn't just happen to me, either. If you want to get angry, go to hollabackdc.wordpress.com. And can I also point out, street harassment has negative consequences for men too, because we women learn to mistrust and treat every man as a potential scumbag - if we don't, the ones who are scumbags interpret it as interest and encouragement, and it is not worth risking my safety to spare your feelings.

Yay! A new game!

Okay so there are a few variations on this game, I'm sure you've encxountered one or more at some time. But hey I thought it might be fun. I think Kurt will enjoy it at least : )

Take the name of a movie and replace significant words with "Your Mom". The longer the title and/or more famous the movie the better.

For example:
The Lion, The Witch and Your Mom
Star Wars VI: Return of Your Mom
and who could forget the classic Your Mom Goes To Washington?

All right blogosphere, whatcha got?
: )

Fat and fashion.

I saw this woman on the bus the other day that was just so damn fabulous.

She was enormously overweight, but she wasn't cute despite that; it added to the utter fabulousness. She had on this hot pink dress, a great color for her, that showed off her giant bazoombas, why not, and fell straight from under said bosom in a very flattering and yet not tent-like or phantom-pregnancy-inducing way.

She accessorized with giant silver hoop earrings with sparkly gems in them, chunky silver bangles, a giant silver handbag with square studs, and silver flip flops. I seriously could not stop just looking at her outfit. I just love super matchy looks. I am a sucker for matching, like, earrings and shoes and/or handbag. But also the whole outfit and her demeanor just exuded this fabulous rich fullness, like some kind of showy rainforest flower in full bloom.

So I swallowed my (intense, crippling) fear of initiating contact with fellow humans and stopped (on my way off the bus, because I am still a coward) to tell her that I just thought she was completely fabulous and I loved her whole look. She smiled and said "Thank you! I try, I try." I sincerely hope I made her day because really, her outfit made mine.

And I encourage you, my fellow humans, to do this also. Break out of the social convention of no eye contact! don't make eye contact! to tell someone that their t-shirt rocks, that you like their hairstyle, or that somehow you appreciate something they've brought to the world, sartorially or otherwise.

Reader Poll: It's just sour milk, really...

Do you pronounce it yogg-urt, or yo-gurt?

Please indicate your country of origin/residence so it can be taken into account with your answer.