Taxi of Love....Love on the Water...River Romance....Something Like That, Who Cares, It'll Sell Tickets.

Today on the way to work, I tripped up the stairs to the Metra and smudged my new dress and just missed the water taxi that would get me to work on time.  Since the blister on my heel from my new boots is still pretty tender, I couldn't walk the mile and a half to work, so I grabbed a coffee to wait for the next water taxi.  I promptly spilled that all down the front of my new dress, and got on the water taxi as The Shirelles played in my head.  It was such a beautiful day in Chicago on the river that I couldn't stay mad.

Larry should be careful.  It's all lining up for me to literally run into a brutish, yet handsome blue collar worker and spill the contents of my briefcase into a big puddle and I'd hate him.  At first....  Although it would really make more sense if Larry were a slimy corporate executive who cheats on me with his secretary, and we were engaged to be married next week.  Then of course, Luke and I (because isn't his name always Luke? Plus we'd have to change Larry's name to Chad or Bryce or something) would fall in love, and I'd run away from my wedding to Bryce and go to the river all decked out in my wedding dress and Luke would be there and we'd ride off on the water taxi to eternal happiness!

You guys, why am I not writing rom coms? Are you there, Jennifer Aniston?  It's me, Jessalynn.  I'm your density.

The Silence of Our Friends

I'm on the metra. I didn't have my ticket pulled up on my phone when the conductor came by. He walked away to check other tickets. The black man behind me had purchased a weekend pass when he meant to buy a Ravinia pass. They are the same price. The man calmly argued that he didn't want to buy another pass, because they are the same price. Can't the conductor just rule it as a mistake this once? The conductor said he was making a scene and to please exit the train at the next stop. He did. Calmly. The conductor walked right past me and smiled.

I never had to show him a ticket. I was silent on the train. I probably shouldn't have been. So I'm making noise here.

"In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies, but the silence of our friends."

I'm not mad, just disappointed.

Hi, you guys.  I haven't written a blog in a while.  I thought I didn't have anything to talk about, but I think really I just got worried about how many times I mention myself in my blog.  How egocentric it is.  When I admitted that to my husband, he said that as soon as he realized that he's writing for himself and no one else, posting blogs was easy.  Thanks for mansplaining that to me, darling.

I'm totally kidding about the mansplaining.  He did not do that.  If he ever did, I don't think we'd be married.  I just wanted to add that term because I like it and I honestly am not sure if I can fit it in this blog, even given the topic.  The topic started out as "Ghostbusters," but I don't really know where it's going now.  Here we go.

I watched Ghostbusters.  The new one with Kristin Wiig (kinda Venkman), Melissa McCarthy (kinda Stanz), Kate McKinnon (kinda Spengler) and Leslie Jones (pretty clearly Zeddemore.  Sorry, but it's part of the problem, although I didn't cringe as much as I thought I would.  About this, anyway).  These ladies are fucking funny.  If you don't think so, and are attributing that opinion to the fact that they are women, then you're wrong.  (See?  I can also have opinions, which is all your argument is.  Sit down. The grownups are talking, and some of them have vaginas. No reason for panic.)

Now, I always regret reading the comments on anything posted on the internet.  There has never been a time that I did not regret this.  I read a lot of the comments on the reboot of Ghostbusters' trailer.  I was truly blown away.  I've read about men's activist groups.  I've seen them parodied on TV.  I've watched "Women Aren't Funny."  I've been called "abrasive" and "emotional" at work because I said what I was thinking out loud and cared about the issue. I've been asked to smile by strange men on the street. I know the drill.

Still. The animosity this trailer had triggered because the new comedians are women. And not just women, y'all. Some of the funniest fucking women in Hollywood right now. (I know, an opinion! I have so many, just like you!) I mean.  THIS.  Try to keep it together, Ryan. 

So I was going to LOVE this movie. Like, TO SPITE YOU ALL if that had to be the only reason. Then I saw it. It's not good. *coughOPINION* As I watched it, I even thought about lying to everyone including myself because the fear that these ladies in the movin' pictures had generated in the hearts and minds of a sea of 42 year old men tweeting from their granny's basement was too much for me to accept.

I didn't, though. Because you might be frightened of me and my terrifying inverted genitals, but you don't scare me.  I quit trying to be what you wanted me to be (and then started mocking me for like your gender didn't back me into a corner of icky "girliness" in the first place) years ago. 

Ghostbusters is bad. It's a mess, but it's a mess because it looked like they had 10 minutes to make a movie, so they slapped some proton packs on it and put it in the theater. NOT because it stars women. So everybody just relax. DON'T MAKE ME COME DOWN THERE and slap the laptop off your enormous cheeto stained belly. 

And you, Ghostbusters. I'm not mad, just disappointed. Go back and do it again.