A REAL ISSUE, EVERYONE

Amongst all the talk today about women's rights and gender equality, I am disappointed that a very important topic within this realm isn't getting the attention it deserves. 

And that topic, that thing, is deodorant. 

WHY is it that men have endless options for deodorant that all smell amazing and come in well-designed, mature-looking packaging while women have to scour through a horrible selection of options filled with scents like "vanilla cupcake" and "passion fruit tango" that look like they were packaged by a five-year-old girl with a penchant for glitter? 

The men's aisle is like, "Here's 25 different options to choose from--you can't go wrong pal," and then the women's is like "Would you like to smell like baby powder or a sugar cube? Or can I interest you in smelling like a rotten pomegranate?" 

Men can choose between scents labeled "Timber", "Foxcrest", "Denali", "Apollo", "Adrenaline", or "Arctic Edge"-- scents created from a mixture of other scents to actually smell GOOD. Women apparently just have to smell like something that already exists out there in the world, with names like "Wild Rose", "Truth or Pear", "Cocoa Butter Kiss", "Powder Fresh", and "Cucumber Green Tea". Pick a fruit, any fruit. Or a flower. Or smell like a baby. But that's it. 

Frankly, I don't think we can ever achieve gender equality until this glaring issue is resolved, and women's deodorant isn't horrible. 

Someone please step up on this soapbox with me. 

Thank you for your time. 

OUR NYC CHECKLIST

Hey guys! I can't believe it, but while we were in NYC we checked off EVERYTHING we had on our to-do list! Every single thing. To prove it, I am going to share it with you:

1. Listen to random guys start softly (and badly) freestyle rapping on the subway multiple times and sit there passively with everyone else like it isn't happening.

2. Give some cash to a paranoid schizophrenic by the Washington Square Arch who asks if we have a Soundcloud account in order to listen to his music.

3. Observe a man covered in pigeons. 

4. Watch two homeless people dance erratically and somewhat inappropriately while a guy plays Superstition on his electric guitar in a subway station while a hundred people stand there and avert their gaze like this happens every day and realize that you will never hear that song without thinking about this moment again. 

5. See subway rats.

6. Get high fives from Jimmy Fallon and get really close to Glenn Close.

7. Spend an exorbitant amount of money on Hamilton tickets that you will be embarrassed to admit to anyone. 

8. Get off at an unfamiliar subway station and get lost walking home in the dark in the rain. 

9. Get asked if we like comedy and black people by aggressive men in Times Square.

10. Get stalled at the subway station for 17 minutes on the way home one night when my husband messes up swiping his metrocard and then spend that 17 minutes waiting to re-swipe avoiding a homeless man accosting strangers trying to use their cards to get onto the subway. 

11. Get really excited about going to the Rockefeller tree lighting ceremony and then come to the realization that thousands of people will be there and avoid the area like the plague instead.

12. Have a soup nazi experience at a bagel shop on the upper west side within two hours of being in the city.

13. Hear a guy shout "GOOD FOR YOU" on the street in the most stereotypical New York accent imaginable. 

14. Step in unidentifiable liquids in subway stations.

15. Witness a very loud and horrible family argument on the subway while sitting there looking forward like nothing is happening along with everyone else. 

16. Buy the most expensive passes to the Museum of Natural History in order to "see all the special exhibits" inside and then realize very quickly that they aren't that exciting and also that they are made for seven year olds. 

17. Try to order food or read anything in China town and feel the very real confusion that millions of people in our country feel all the time.

18. (On my husband's list) Get called "sexy guy" by a homeless woman on the street. 

19. See a Subway within a subway and have a a very real Inception moment. 

20. Hunt down filming locations from You've Got Mail and get sad seeing Kathleen Kelly's house looking rather dumpy now. 

POTATO DAMERON AND BB-TATE

You guys. I have a problem. 

EXCERPTS FROM EDGAR ALLAN POE DAMERON'S "THE DROID"

Once upon a midnight dreary, while piloting, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious planet of the system's yore—

      While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

      As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my cockpit door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my cockpit door—

            Only this and nothing more.”

                                                  .........

                     But BB-8, spinning lonely on the desert sand, spoke only

               That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

                     Nothing farther then he uttered--not a secret map he shuttered---

                     Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other droids have left before--

               On the morrow he will leave me, as my friends have flown before."

                           Then the droid said "Nevermore." 

                                                              .........

                 “Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if droid or devil!—

            Whether First Order sent, or if tempest tossed thee here ashore,

                  Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

                  On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

            Is there—is Luke Skywalker alive? —tell me—tell me, I implore!”

                        Quoth BB-8, “Nevermore.”

                                                           .........

               And BB-8, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting

        On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;

               And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

               And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

        And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

                     Shall be lifted—nevermore!

MOANING MYRTLE CELEBRATES HALLOWEEN

A BRITISH CHAP FOR YOUR POCKET

Today I wished that I could have a little British child in my pocket that I could pull out and use to disband conversations any time people are saying weird or cringeworthy things. For example, when a strange and inappropriate discussion involving bodily functions occurred in the office today, I could have ushered in my little British lad (with the gusto of one throwing a Pokéball to summon one's trusty Pikachu) and he would have stood there and proclaimed with a small but urgent voice:

"I WILL NOT HAVE IT!"

"YOU MUST NOT TALK ANY LONGER!"

"GOOD DAY TO YOU!"

and then jumped back into my pocket, leaving everyone speechless. 

Maybe if I wish for him again tomorrow, he'll show up in my pocket.