It’s been a year since the last women’s march on the day of Trump’s inauguration. Since then, Trump has decreased protections for women’s healthcare, defended sexual predators, and been his usual offensive self. The time had come to march again.
In a county being run by Jabba the Hut, you have to stand up for your rights or spend four to eight years getting slimed on (please let it be four).
This year, my experience at the march was mixed. It was a great cause and a great movement, but the event itself was poorly run. Here are some of the do’s and don’ts I’ve learned about protesting.
Show up. In Democracy, as in high school, you get participation points. Also, vote (with your ballot, your presence, and your pocketbook).
Bring your cool signs. “Grab them by the midterms” is a winner as is “Hell hath no fury like the 51% minority.”
Take your dog (if they’re calm enough). Your pup will look adorable in a pink baby blanket and pussy hat. Complete strangers will want to take pictures (I know because we did).
Make your audience listen to over an hour and half’s worth of speeches before the actual march. Common sense, people.
Insult said audience. Trust me no one likes being shouted at to take off their pussy hats (because they’re trans exclusive) and join a real protest. This is a real protest. Respect our dedication and that we took the time to be here.
And finally, if it is cold and rainy (like it was for me), you can huddle with fellow protesters and use them as blankets. Provided your related to them that is.
The first time I went climbing was up a sharp rock crag—at night. We were college students and thought this was a good idea. I wore special pinchy shoes and tried not to freeze halfway. Turns out you can still be afraid of heights even if you can’t see the ground.
The second time was in a climbing gym last weekend—much easier. Here’s what I’ve learned from that little excursion.
1.) Rocks—natural or manmade—hurt your fingers. If you’re outside, wear climbing gloves or say goodbye to your palm
2.) Everyone there is fit enough to be in an AREI commercial. Try not to think about it.
3.) You’ll get to the top, smile at the view, and think “Ow, my forearms.”
4.) The belaying rope will hold you. You will not plummet to your death if you let go. Assuming they maintain their equipment, which I urge you not to wonder about.
5.) Go somewhere where they take care of their equipment (see above).
Lastly, if the eight-year-old on the next course can do it, so can you.
I work for an animal welfare based non-profit that happens to have a lot of these animals (mostly cats) around the office.
We have Squawk (yowls when you don’t pet her), Roy (reaches out of his cage and puts his paws on your chest), and Ninja (hides behind her litter box) to play with. Here’s what it’s like when your office is an animal foster.
1.) Your work shirts have hair and cat slobber on them.
2.) You start talking to the animals way too often (“Quit hissing and behave, or I’ll put you in timeout.”)
3.) When you come in in the morning, everyone starts yowling for your immediate attention.
4.) On occasion, you get scratched (when someone really doesn’t want to go back to her cage).
5.) If you let the animals out, they will walk in front of your computer (duh). When you turf a cat off your desk, it will leap back up the second you put it down.
Lastly, one lap can indeed fit two kittens. Provided they quit squirming, which is doubtful.
This New Year I decided it would be a good idea to take a “polar bear swim” in the icy waters of Puget Sound. I regretted this idea three seconds after I started. Nevertheless, it’s a fun tradition (when you get out that is). Here are some tips if you’d like to try it.
1.) Afterwards, take the shower closest to the hot water heater. It’s what my Mom did to me.
2.) You can get an ice cream headache.
3.) Make sure you’re the last person out, especially if there’s photographic evidence. Otherwise your family will tease you and post said evidence on Facebook.
4.) The polar bear swim is actually the polar bear dunk. If you try swimming, your toes will turn purple and drop into the sea.
5.) Be careful of barnacles. Or else you could start the New Year with more blood than you’d like.
And finally, when you sprint up the beach and into the bathroom, you will realize you have found nirvana. And that it’s a bone warming hot shower (see tip one).