In which I ramble on about women in tech

So I'm annoyed.  What's new, right?

One of the fastest and surest ways to piss me off is to be a misogynist.  I'm hardly a militant feminist because some of their "arguments" are seriously absurd.  But I'm fed up.  Really.

FIRSTLY: the "women in the kitchen" and "make me a sandwich" jokes.  If you think these are funny, fuck you and fuck everything you stand for and fuck everything you have ever loved.  There's not a whole lot else I can say.

SECONDLY: How women are perceived in the world of IT and tech.  This is a complicated issue, because on one hand my experience says one thing and mass media says something completely different.  In my personal experience I've only gotten a slight whiff of sexism in the workplace, and exclusively from my last place of work. 

But if you believe the media (oh, that wacky, nebulous media machine), the handful of us vag-possessors are browbeaten on all sides, struggle for positions of power, and are all forced to deliver blowjobs in server rooms across the country for a shred of recognition in our respective companies.  But there are so few of us that the question is asked: why are there so few women in tech?  And it's asked over and over and over and over and over.

But here's the thing: we're already here!  Hi!  Yoo hoo!  Over here!  And over there!  And over there too!  We're here working our asses off every day the same as anyone else in any other industry, male or female.  Nobody in the real world seems to be making much of a stink about the fact that we have ovaries and are fixing computers because we're just doing our jobs. 

By making a stink about gender ratios and whatever bullshit affirmative action-type programs that should be magicked out of the air across the business world to bring more vaginas to the party, the stink-raisers are only marginalizing us further.  It doesn't have to be us-versus-them, male-versus-female, or any other polarizing make-believe.  We're all just humans doing our jobs.  Ants in the hill.  Lemmings on the same treadmill.

And then there's the sexualizing.  Because surely all any woman wants to do is take their clothes off and appear on the cover of a magazine, no matter how much innovation and technical knowledge she brings to the field. 

That all said, I do like the idea of networking.  We can trade war stories or deal with workplace issues as they come up as a community of females who happen to share an affinity for technology.  I'm all for that.

What pisses me off about organizations like Girls In Tech ("Girls"?  Really?) is that they're lumping PR and marketing in with tech.  Frankly, it's off-putting.  My job is so far away from PR and marketing it's not even funny.  I don't want anything to do with that industry.  If I'm going to network with someone, it's only going to be useful to me if I can have a discussion about how other companies are handling wireless security in the office, or which commercial MPLS options make the most sense for the size of a business, or who makes the best business-class laptops.  I don't give a rat's ass about building brands, corporate social networking, anything involving the word "leveraging", spin, adspace, or SEO.

Monday Brain Dump

So a bunch of us nerds from the Internet have been getting together for a weekly D&D night.  I've never had the pleasure of playing with an actual group of people and the last time I looked at D&D was in junior high? Maybe? Back when there was D&D and then there was fuckin' hardcore AD&D RRRAAAAUUUGGHHH.  Almost all of us are completely green when it comes to D&D but luckily we have an experienced DM (or do we call them GMs these days?) and a couple of veterans of previous versions.  We're still in the hand-holding stage but fuck if we didn't massacre the shit out of some kobolds the last couple of weeks.  I'm 30 years old and I play D&D and I have no shame.

Speaking of that, I've had a new life mantra.  It goes, "I'm 30 years old and I'm going to _____ if I want to."  It has many applications, such as, "I'm 30 years old and I can wear novelty socks to work every day if I want to", and, "I'm 30 years old and I'm going to cut my hair into a mohawk if I want to", and the recently-uttered, "we're 30 years old and we can buy our own Fun-Dip if we want to."  This is all part of my larger life-altering plan to Stop Giving A Fuck.  Why yes, that is oatmeal on my pants.  And I don't give a fuck.  And yes, I'm probably going to wear these pants again tomorrow.  Because I don't give a fuck about that either.  And also, I'm a goddamn midget who's going to tell you to move your slow ass over to the right in the Skyway because I don't give a fuck and I'm hungry and I'm on my way to get some lunch.

Since we switched to DirectTV so we could watch the hockey games that we were paying for, we've been enjoying the hell out of our new DVR and new fancy channels.  I've been particularly happy about FitTV.  Last night while Husband was at band practice I fired up some saved episodes of Namaste Yoga, Shimmy, and Bollywood Dance Workout.  You know those people who claim that anyone can belly dance?  That all women's bodies were made to do the movements?  THEY'RE LYING.  I'm glad I never went to an actual belly dance class in public because those people who tell you that you can do it just want to see you make an ass out of yourself.  At least I only made an ass out of myself in front of my cats and dog.  I did slightly better with the Bollywood show, but there was much flailing and tripping.  At least I had a good time and I was winded in the end.  I'm comfortable with the fact that I lack all the bodily control over my limbs and hips that is required for dancing.

I don't know why I do this to myself

I just got back from lunch.  I was craving tacos so I went to Taco John's.  Again I am reminded why I loathe fast food.

I haven't been eating well (or at all sometimes) lately.  There are a lot of reasons for this, but there's just no excuse for the past few days of self-sabotage.  I haven't been to the gym in two weeks.

I looked up from my #3 (with sour cream and cheese on the side) and just couldn't eat any more.  Everyone around me was fat.  Everyone at the register was fat.  Everyone walking through the Skyway with a Taco John's bag was fat.  Every. Single. One.

I feel awful now, both physically and emotionally.  And I have that phlegm.  You know, the phlegm you get from Taco John's and Taco Bell.  I'm kind of dizzy and sick to my stomach.

I wish so badly that I had more of the hash I made this weekend with sweet potatoes, fingerling potatoes, red onions, and kale.  Everything was organic and local and at the peak of flavor.  It was quick and simple.  It had nutritional value.  This weekend wasn't terrible all in all as far as food went.  After eating nothing but candy at work on Monday I went home and made a simple soup with organic carrots and celery, ginger, egg noodles, and leftover chicken broth that I had from simmering organic chicken a few days prior.  We ate this for dinner with toasted rye bread.

So today I demand a do-over.

The tiredest sushi

Scooter scooter scooter (RIP Gretchen)

My adorable pink and white 49.5cc scooter (Gretchen) is dead.  Dead.  The spring from the starter somehow wrapped around the drive chain and oil was lost somewhere and there are metal shards and everything. 

But.  Um.  This weekend I got the shock of my life.  My dad had Gretchen in his shop and was attempting to fix it (this was before I knew about the absolute self-destruction involved).  I got this picture in a text message Saturday morning:

Ugh.  It's a little like seeing a family member go in for surgery.

I got another text that afternoon saying they were on their way to drop her back off at home.  So they drive up with a scooter on a trailer.  Only it's not Gretchen.  It's a badass yellow 150cc scooter.  I believe the first thing out of my mouth was, "Uhh…?"

The scooter, as it turns out, is my birthday/Christmas present for the next 40 years or so.  They found it on Craigslist for a ridiculously crazy deal (seriously half of what it should have cost) and snapped it up.  My dad is still going to fix Gretchen but we're going to sell her when she's functional again.

The new scooter looks sort of like this (these things are all over Craigslist right now).  Mine's got a few more chrome appointments.  Bad. Ass.

I'm SO EXCITED to be able to scoot faster than 25 mph.  I can take her on highways and everything!  No more moving into the bike lane!  This reminds me: I have to get my helmet fixed.  Also, now I have to learn how a 4-stroke works.  No more dealing with smoky 2-cycle oil?  Awesome!

I'll be taking pictures this afternoon.  I'm taking suggestions on what to name her.

Also also: I need need need a FLCL sticker now.