The Naughty Monkey Coming to Stepford

Last week while ordering my super-cute, chocolate-brown “Obama ’08” football tee that I’m planning to wear to every Stepford soccer game from now until election day, I instant messaged a friend of mine who has not yet realized she is a Democrat. I offered to purchase her a tee shirt, to which I received an overly polite “No, thank you.” I was feeling particularly mischievous that day, so I continued offering everything on the Obama ’08 Web site until she “hung up” on our chat session.

Well, today I paid the price for that little bit of fun. If you read my “Oh No You Didn’t” Stepford Story, you know I’m constantly forced to interact with Republicans who could care less they are offending me. Well, this morning the attack came from my friend, who knew exactly what she was doing. I’m not sure what got her Stepford thong in a knot, but she took it out on me. What follows in this article is my actual instant message conversation, only edited for spelling, punctuation, and the removal of her name for her own protection.

Her: “Okay, I know you’re not a Sarah Palin fan, but there was a spread on the whole McCain/Palin thing in People a couple of weeks ago and Sarah had on these ROCKIN’ shoes. Unfortunately I threw away the magazine and can’t find the picture on the People Web site. Any suggestions?”

(“McCain/Palin thing”? It’s a “thing?? Yeah, I have some suggestions.)

Me, taking a deep breath: “I have absolutely no problem with her shoes. I actually really like the way she dresses ... those shoes were on the front page of the Wall Street Journal—red patent leather peep toe pumps. Don’t remember where they came from, but I am SURE with all the media coverage on her Japanese glasses that if you Googled ‘Sarah Palin’s shoes,’ they would pop up.”

(Two short minutes later.)

Her: “I LOVE Google!!!!!”

Me, with an eye roll: “Me too.”

Her: “BUMMER!!!! Zappos is not offering my size.”

Me, exasperated that so many women have apparently ordered these shoes they are in short supply: “And why do you think that is? There is a two-month wait on her glasses.”

(Three blessed minutes of silence ...)

Her: “I’m on the phone with the boutique in Alaska where she bought them and am putting in my ‘hold’ for their next shipment. The brand of shoes is ‘The Naughty Monkey.’ I told her she needed to open another boutique in Stepford.”

(Father in Heaven, I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve this, but I assure you I am very, very, VERY, sorry ...)

Me: “I may not be able to talk to you until November 3rd.”

Her: “You HAVE to look up this shoe line. It’s incredible.”

Me: “I’m about to unfriend you.”

Her: “I seriously need ALL of these shoes ...”

Me: “You seriously need someone to throw some cold water on you.”

Her: “Did you SEE the Web site?”

Me: “Noooooo. Out of principle I’m unable to click the link.”

Her: “You’re seriously missing out.”

(Umkay ... I’m done … I can’t take it anymore.)

Me: “How could I possibly wear the exact pair of shoes that she wears without that making me a hypocrite? I’ve only dissed her and her sanctimonious pumps under my real name on a national Web site.”

Her: “You dissed her shoes?!”

(OMG! It’s seriously okay if I dis the VP candidate on the Republican ticket for which she is voting, but NOT her shoes?)

Me: “Well, I’ve referred to her pumps on several occasions and how if her updo gets any taller, it will be an actual bee hive.”

Her: “Okay, I agree the hair needs some attention, but HOW could you dis her SHOES?!”

(Umkay ... it really is the dissing of the shoes that is offending her. I’m so sorry, but I have to say this.)

Me: “BECAUSE SHE IS F’ING WEARING THEM!”

Her: “It’s not the shoes’ fault that you don’t like her.”

(How, how in the Hell can I make this stop?)

Me: “True, but it doesn’t mean I want to wear the ‘signature’ shoes of someone I so publicly and fundamentally disagree with and could possibly—God help us all—be President.”

Her: “I’ll let you swoon over mine when I get them.”

(WHERE is that letter opener?! If I don’t find something to poke my own eyes out with soon, I’m going to scream.)

Me: “And I’ll allow you to silently enjoy the improvement in the well-being of our Nation when we ship her and her Naughty Monkeys back to BFA.”

Her: “Or I’ll buy you a pair when she moves into the VP house in Washington.”

(Is it even worth mentioning the Vice President lives at Number One Observatory Circle and they don’t call it the “VP house”?)

Me: “Make sure you buy me your own size, ’cause I won’t be wearing them.”

Her: “You’re going to be jealous!”

Me: “Very doubtful.”

(Okay, enough! It’s time for a threat.)

Me: “I’m about to cut and paste our conversation for my next Stepford Story.”

Her: “You can use my real name.”

Me: “You shouldn’t say things you don’t mean.”

Her: “As long as you’re not dissing ME ...”

(OH LORD ... by definition, if you get a Stepford Story written about you—you’re being dissed.)

Me: “Publishing this conversation would be read as dissing you. So, because I love you, in spite of your misguided shoe fetish, I won’t.”

Her: “Now, see, you’re assuming that people wouldn’t see MY side?”

(AAHHH … I’m going to hyperventilate at any moment.)

Me: “Okie dokie, that’s fair enough. I’m going to publish it, not using your name just in case I’m right and you’re not and we’ll see how it comes out, deal?”

Her: “Deal.”

And there you go—just another day in the lovely, “unsuperficial,” high-minded city of Stepford.

Oh, No You Didn't - Only in Stepford

I may harm myself before the election gets here. Truly the only thing worse than being a working mother in Stepford is being a Democrat in Stepford. So needless to say, since I am both, sharp objects seem to be calling my name. I was doing pretty well this election cycle … right up until the Republican Party nominated a Stepford Wife for Vice President. Sitting at my desk reading the announcement, all I could think was “Uh oh. Here we go.” So, the last two weeks having pretty much been a living Hell. I’m trying to get my groove back, so I’ve decided to share the eight most ridiculous things said to my face by people I know regarding politics this year:

1) From my mother: “I think we can at least agree that Cindy McCain has the most beautiful clothes.”

I responded, “Yes, mom, billionaires tend to dress well.”

2) From my husband who apparently never wants sex from me again: “That’s John McCain’s wife? She’s hot.”

Umkay … and you are attracted to me because … ?

3) Again, from my mother, the most ironic sentence ever uttered in the history of mankind: “Kristi, Obama is such a racist and if I have to look at Michelle’s lips for four years I’ll vomit in the trash can.”

Upside? I’m living proof racism is not a genetic disorder.

4) From my husband: “Kristi, I think you’re overlooking why Sarah Palin might be appealing to some people.”

WTF? I only live in a community where every woman thinks they are her. The remainder of this conversation did not go well.

5) From my mother: “Let me tell you one thing, my little Sarah came out a swingin’!”

Your little Sarah? What followed, I will admit, was nothing short of a screaming throw down over Palin.

6) From a friend’s mother over Easter Brunch: “I think its pretty clear Barack Obama is the Anti-Christ.”

After receiving my blank stare, which is my standard “OMG that is so ridiculous I can’t find words” response, she followed up with “Oprah has started her own religion.”

Good to know.

7) From a coworker: “Did you see Hannity and Combs last night?”

I followed that question with the obligatory blank stare and “Uhhh, no. What channel is that? Oh, Fox. No, I missed it.” I then proceeded to the restroom and talked myself out of jumping from my tenth floor office window.

8) From a friend’s child: “My daddy says Obama is a thief and he is going to steal all our money.”

This is child abuse.

Here is how I’m keeping myself sane until Halloween. I’ve ordered a hot pink “I AM Sarah Palin” tee shirt off the web and am planning to wear it with a bee hive hairdo, pumps, a pig nose, glasses, and red lipstick while handing out candy to my neighbor’s children on Halloween. I doubt anyone will notice. Of course, there is also the possibility that I will get no trick-or-treaters at all due to the Obama 2008 sign in the front yard.

Pigs, Pit Bulls, and Palin

We don’t wear no mini skirts,
We just wear our soccer shirts.
We don’t play with Barbie dolls,
We just play with Soccer balls.

And so begins my eight-year-old daughter’s soccer team chant. It’s a little different from the “Firecracker, Firecracker, Boom, Boom, Boom” hip-shaking cheer I was doing at her age and that’s just fine with me. Another difference between my daughter and me is the fact that I never heard the term “sexism” as a child. However, two days ago she asked me what it was and I did my best to explain it to her. She, of course, heard this term on the news this week. I had actually expected the question to come from my eleven-year-old son since he is now at the age where even the slightest inference of sex makes his ears perk up. Alas, it was my daughter and I felt prepared and qualified enough to discuss the topic with her. After all, I’m college educated and a professional working woman. What I felt utterly unprepared for was explaining to her exactly how sexism applies to Sarah Palin. She hasn’t asked about Sarah Palin yet, so I left that part of the discussion for another day. The conversation did get me thinking and whenever that happens, writing usually follows.

So, lots of accusations about Sarah Palin being the victim of sexism have been tossed out for us, the American voters, to chew on this week. I’ve paused more than once to really think about this. I admit, I’ve had more than a little difficulty wrapping my mind around what exactly it is that is going on here. After careful and thoughtful analysis, I’ve determined that the reason I’m having a hard time with this is that I don’t have a word in my vocabulary that describes what I’m observing. It’s definitely not sexism. The American Heritage Dictionary defines sexism as “The belief that one sex (usually the male) is naturally superior to the other and should dominate most important areas of political, economic, and social life.” Nope, she’s definitely not suffering from sexism. Actually, it seems to me that she is suffering (Read: benefiting) from a perverted twisting of sexism that I don’t have a name for.

Here are my observations and questions related to this:

1) Is it actually sexism to choose a woman for a job just because she’s a woman? If the answer to this is yes, then I have to conclude that Tim Pawlenty is actually the one who has been the victim of sexism and not Sarah Palin. Palin it seems has been the beneficiary rather than the victim.

2) When Palin went on national television and described herself as a hockey mom and then further went on to say the only difference between a hockey mom and a pit bull is lipstick, is that sexism? I mean certainly no one would ever say the only difference between a hockey dad and a pit bull is lipstick.

3) Is using the phrase “lipstick on a pig” sexism? If the answer is yes, is it the “pig” part or the “lipstick” part that is sexism? If it is the “pig” part, I’m going to have to stop using the phrase “happy as a pig in the sunshine.” If it is the “lipstick” part, Palin needs to stop telling her pit bull joke. Oh wait, maybe it is the combination of pigs and lipstick that makes this remark sexist? If the answer to that is yes, what on God’s green earth does any of that have to do with the economy, health care, the war, or taxes?

Here’s the point. Sarah Palin can’t have it both ways. She can’t put on the “Mantle of Motherhood” in her national political debut and then expect no one to ask questions about how she mothers and governs at the same time. She can’t be the “Pit bull” of the Republican Party and expect no criticism to come back her way. She can’t disclose the name, rank, unit, and deployment date of her son, as admirable as that may be, and expect no one to ask about her pregnant daughter. She can’t just say she’s qualified to be Vice President. She must open herself up to the media like McCain, Obama, and Biden have done. And come to think about it, like Cindy McCain and Michelle Obama have also done. And if the media asks her tough questions, here’s a news flash: they are doing their jobs, not attacking her because she is a woman or a conservative. Sarah, if you can’t run with the big dogs, you need to get back on the porch with the Barbies, I mean, puppies. Surely the pit bull hockey mom, rifle shooting, moose-stew eating Sarah Palin isn’t going to turn out to be whiner. After all, as she should know by now, there is no place for whining in hockey, motherhood, or politics.