Rainbow of pantsuits

Gee whiz. You open your laptop to write a blog and before you know it you're knee deep in Borat clips on YouTube. Hours have passed. It's now dark outside. My leg is numb from this weird position I'm sitting in. Oh Internet, you little devil you. Come back here with my precious time.

Back to the matter at hand. I was listening to 'The Takeaway' on NPR today (yep - I'm smart) and it was all about Hillary Clinton's wardrobe.

As you'd expect, the whole segment was terrible. They interviewed a lady named Robin Givhan who is the Pulitzer-Prize-winning fashion editor for The Washington Post. She talked about how Hil first started to wear pantsuits back when she was first lady.

"You could almost hear the sigh of relief when she finally said, 'enough with these pink skirtsuits and headbands!'"

Did you almost hear the sigh? I didn't almost hear the sigh, but I'll take Robin's word for it.

Then she goes on to talk about how Hillary took things a step further during her senate run, choosing to wear only a black pantsuit as a sort of uniform.

"It gave her the same kind of freedom that a dark suit gives men, which is that it took the conversation of clothing off the table."

Well, it obviously didn't take the conversation of clothing off the table completely. You are, after all, currently discussing her clothing on national radio right now.

Robin continues:

"When she ran for president the first time and had that rainbow of pantsuits, I think to some degree she was again sort of struggling with this idea of power and femininity, and 'how much can I embrace being a woman and declare that as part of my campaign."

What the actual F.

I highly doubt Hillary Clinton was agonizing over which shade of pantsuit portrayed the right level of femininity.

My main problem with this—what made me want to scrape my ear drums out with a rusty spoon—was the way that they tried to frame the typical 'fluff piece on a female politician's clothing' into some sort of enlightening feminist thinkpiece. Come on, NPR. Just admit that you wanted to talk about Hilary's pantsuits because they're funny. Don't try to make it deeper than that.


 

Now that's more like it!  No, it's not a traditional costume from East Asia. It's the actual coat she wore over her actual dress to the actual 1993 Inaugural Ball.

Image by Henry Dunay via Wikimedia Commons

See ya,
Margaret

P.S. I mean, I love Project Runway as much as the next guy, but there's a Pulitzer Prize for fashion writing? Really? OK, that's fine. Fashion is art. Fine! I get it. It's OK. Nevermind.

P.P.S. Did you know that Hillary Clinton watches 'Real Housewives of New York'? My source: Dorinda Medley (so take it with a grain of salt)

The day the music died

Do you ever have those moments when you think: wait a second, why don't I ever listen to music anymore?!

It happens to me all the time. I get so caught up in my podcasts that I forget the rejuvenating, mood-altering power of music. Even when I do decide to turn on the radio, I stick to Top 40. I switch between STAR 101.5, KISS 106.1 and HOT 103.7, choosing whichever one's not playing 'Shut Up And Dance'. Often it's all of them and I have to switch over to NPR.


I blame this music drought on two things:

1. The end of the CD.
2. Getting older.

The end of the CD

All great art is born of restraint. Much like the human child, it needs boundaries to flourish. That's why Twitter's140-character limit is so genius. It forces people to be creative and edit their thoughts down until they're the most concise and impactful. Not a word wasted. Polonius said it first—"Brevity is the soul of wit."

So it makes sense that the end of the CD was the end of me taking an active role in my music consumption. Back then, being constrained to 18 tracks, I was forced to put thought into my playlists. Each song required careful selection to ensure it fit the mood and flow of the mix. Nowadays, I'll just hit shuffle on the iPod and zone out to the same 200 songs that have been on there since 2007.

Getting older

An study came out recently saying that people stop listening to music once they turn 33. Maybe I'm just four years ahead of the game. I've always been mature for my age.

My one saving grace may be following young celebrities on Instagram. Two days ago Kylie Jenner introduced me to this song, which I think is decent.

Image by Gary Luck via Wikimedia Commons

OK, I gotta go! I promised myself I'd hit the hay early tonight.

Remember to treat yourself tomorrow (Mondays are for treating yourself).

Love,
Margaret

P.S. Don't get me wrong. I'm no luddite! I'm mostly happy that we've moved on from CDs. The scratches and skipping was beyond annoying.

Ch ch ch changes

I left for Edinburgh in 2009. Now it's 2015 and I'm back. For the most part, Seattle is how I left it. However, there are a few new things that have cropped up in the past six years. I'm not sure I like them. I'm not sure I like them one bit.

• Christian coffee shops — What's the deal? I'm seeing a lot of these. Some come right out with it ('His Word Found Here' in Ballard) and others are sneakier.

• Cards Against Humanity — I'm so old that in my day they used to call this game 'Apples to Apples'.

• 'Bender & Molly' in the mornings  — Say whaaaa? What happened to Jackie and Bender? Molly, that girl from the Bachelor, is Bender's new co-host? Crazy. I've also heard that Jackie and Bender were actually married and then divorced but still did their show together for a while. If that's true, it makes sense that it wasn't sustainable. Anyone have the T on this? 

What's the shelf-life of a game like this? Is it past its sell-by date? It's no Cranium, that's what I say.

Image by tom_bullock via Wikimedia Commons

Meanwhile, as these radical changes to Seattle culture continue to throw me for a loop, I hear this song by 5 Seconds of Summer on the radio today:



WHAT is going on. Just when I thought the world was passing me by, I hear those familiar nasal tones over the airwaves. The early-2000s pop-punk male vocal sound! Is it making a comeback? They don't totally recreate it, but they're certainly playing homage to it. Takes me right back to high school, driving around Kenmore, loitering at the Safeway, watching Laguna Beach: The Real Orange County in standard definition.

I recently read a fascinating article on what inspired the Blink182-style vocals of that era. A linguist weighs in. It's actually very interesting. I recommend you read it.

That's all for now. I've been out celebrating Amazon's 20th birthday. Macklemore was there. NBD.

Cheerio,
Margaret

Should I sleep outside tonight?

Before I answer that, let's get something out of the way up front. Kim Kardashian was on 'Wait Wait Don't Tell Me' over the weekend and I only found out about it today! I feel like the oldest lady on the block. Or the youngest. Or whatever age would mean I'm not up on the latest NPR/Kardashian news.

I just listened to it. She did OK. I felt proud of her. Overall, I think this was a good thing for NPR. A reminder that public radio can let its hair down and brush shoulders with us reality-TV-watching, toenail-biting, Triscuit-binging schmucks every once in a while.

On to more pressing matters—should I sleep outside tonight?

When I worked at summer camp in the south Puget Sound, I slept outside every night. It was so serene, falling asleep under the stars and waking up with the birds. I CRAVE that feeling. Thinking about it gives me an achy breaky heart.

The stars? Or a close-up of Andy's shoulders when he's wearing a black sweater? HEY-OH! Snap!

Image via Wikimedia Commons

A few summers ago, I was struck with a similar wave of nostalgia. Andy and I were in his hometown, Hampton-In-Arden. It was June 21st, which he kept referring to as "midsummer". I disagreed but didn't question him because I liked the way he kept going on about it. "What a lovely midsummer evening. Isn't there something so wonderful about midsummer. Midsummer is my favourite time of the year, tra la la, tweedley deedley doo!" 

In honor of midsummer and the warm weather—a scorching high of 65°F—we decided to sleep outside. We built a tent out of blankets in his mom's back garden. Just as we were dozing off into our midsummer night's dreams, we were jolted awake by a terrifying, high-pitched SHRIEEEEK! The shrillest, most spine-curdling screaming you've ever heard in your life.

As quick as you can say "Midsummer is my favourite time of the year, tra la la, tweedley deedley doo!" we were back in the house, the doors locked and the windows shut tight.

The next morning, his mom told us it was foxes doing mating calls. We Googled it, and she was right.



Maybe I'll sleep outside tomorrow and post a video blog from my sleeping bag. We don't have foxes, but we do have a few neighborhood cats, which is obviously even worse. Still, I think I'll take my chances.

Sweet dreams,
Margaret

Tracy Chapman = on the radio lots

In case you haven't noticed, we're in the midst of a Tracy Chapman renaissance. Yes, that woman with a male voice who sings 'Fast Car' — all of a sudden, she's back!

I'm not quite sure what's going on, but I've been in America for just two months now and I've already heard more Tracy Chapman than all of the 90s combined (which was quite a lot...before things soured between Anna and Columbia House). Every time I turn on the radio her baritone melodies reverberate back through the speakers. At first I thought it was a fluke, but it's happened so much that I know something's up.

Image by Wishbook via Flickr

Was one of her songs played during the credits of a season finale or something? Like, Grey's Anatomy maybe? What else could explain it?

What I do know is that I can't help but sing along to "but you can say baby...baby can I hold you toniiiiiight. Maybe if I told you the right words...ooooooh at the right time....you'd me mine." Tune and a half.

Hey, I've cracked it! Just now. I was Googling "Tracy Chapman" and discovered that she performed on Letterman a month ago. That explains it. That explains the resurgence. I answered by own question. This blog is therapy.


 
(Watch for a boring rendition of 'Stand By Me')

In related news, I was listening to Warm 106.9 today and they have a station advertisement that goes like this:

Warm 106.9, for when you're wearing yoga pants as...pants! We don't judge! Warm 106.9, today's music variety. 

Well, they certainly know their audience. I was indeed wearing yoga pants as pants at the time. Ugh.

Your pal,
Marge

P.S. This blog post is officially in the running for 'Worst Post Title Ever'. Other nominees include:

• This counts as a blog post
• Hats
• Gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble, gobble

Madgespace Tribune

My days, these days, are spent doing three things.

• Working

• Taking baths 

• Watching TV

There's little time for anything else. However, I've managed to keep up with all the important news stories thanks to that annoying ticker on the right side of my Facebook feed. 

Here's a recap in case you missed them.

A 7-year-old newsie in Alabama in 1914. What were you doing when you were seven!?!

Image via trialsanderrors via Flickr

NEWS: Teenagers are suctioning shot glasses to their faces and taking snaps of their swollen lips for the #KylieJennerChallege.

MY THOUGHTS: All kids have to learn this lesson at some point in their lives. Suctioning a cup, Nalgene water bottle or pickle jar lid to your face will leave a massive red mark around your lips. In fact, in America today, a different kid suffers an accidental, self-inflicted face hickey every three seconds. This Kylie Jenner thing may actually end up raising awareness of the detriments of face-vacuuming so that bored teenagers don't have to discover them the hard way.



NEWS: New Zealand Prime Minister John Key has apologized for pulling a waitress' hair (aka "a bit of banter").

MY THOUGHTS: The punishment should fit the crime. He should be forced to grow a rat tail and have Keri Russell yank it a few times. Because she was in that movie Waitress (duh).



NEWS: Netflix is going to air a Full House spinoff called 'Fuller House'.

MY THOUGHTS: Jodie Sweeten is returning, which is all that matters. I'm predicting that 'The Sign' by Ace of Base will be playing in the background of one of her scenes (on the car stereo or in the supermarket) as a hilarious in-joke for all us Full House diehards. In fact, this will definitely happen. YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST.

That's all the news from Lake Woebegone.

Speaking of Lake Woebegone....woe is me; it's time I be gone to bed. AMAZING. I am AMAZING.

Nighty noodle,

Margaret

P.S. I hate Garrison Kiellor.

P.P.S. I don't know. Maybe he's good. But I'll never be able to shake my pavlovian BORED TO SOBS reaction to Prairie Home Companion. As a child in the backseat of a black Suburban, I would pray for anything but that damn Garrison Kiellor. Car Talk, Wait Wait, All Thing Considered—anything but that pretentious, breathy, Midwestern voice waffling on about the dullest shite imaginable.

This American Life — So hot right now

The fact that 'This American Life' is the best radio show on the air is nothing new. We've all known it for years. We all love the fiasco episode. We all guiltily give five bucks to the show once a decade. We all have Ira's name in a heart tattooed on our biceps. OK, I get it. I GET IT. 'This American Life' is good and the fact that it's good doesn't merit an entire blog post.

But hear me out. At the moment, it's particularly good. Two recent episodes—Not So Simple Majority and The Secret Recordings of Carmen Segarra—are really, really top notch. Top notchier than usual.

If you're going for a run, driving to work or getting a beard weave like Denzel on America's Next Top Model, then I recommend popping these TAL episodes in the ol' Microsoft Zune.

Ira's senior photo, 1977 via Milford Mill High School via Wikimedia Commons

OK. I wish I could write more, but I've been procrastinating all weekend and have to do some actual work now. Andy is in France and I've had no one to stop me from watching Real Housewives of New Jersey until 3am every night. Yes, you read that right. Alert the presses, I've finally gotten around to watching RHONJ. And yes, it's every bit as wonderful as you've all told me.

Cheers,
Margaret

P.S. I've spoken not a single word today. I haven't talked to anyone in person, on the phone or on Skype. I've remained utterly silent. It's always bizarre the few days a year that this happens.

P.P.S. I just said "hello" out loud.

P.P.P.S. Just did it again and filmed it.