My Photo

My Other Blog

SlackStuff!


slackmistress television!

Flickr

  • www.flickr.com
    slackmistress' photos More of slackmistress' photos

September 13, 2007

Happy New Year!

I'm not Jewish, but I'm always mistaken for one of the tribe.  Last year I went on a date with a guy that was going swimmingly until he found out I wasn't Jewish.  The conversation went something like this:

You're not Jewish?

No.

I thought you were Jewish!

Why would you think that?

You look Jewish!

I'm not Jewish.

Are you sure?

Yes.

I can't believe you're not Jewish!  I need you to be Jewish.

It's not like I'm president of the Hitler fan club.  I'm just not Jewish.

Needless to say, there wasn't a second date.

...

This morning  I was putting the finishing touches on the first draft (an oxymoron if there ever was one) of a spec pilot I'm working on when the doorbell rang.  Odd, I thought, and quickly made myself presentable.  I opened the door to find my neighbor, L.  He was all dressed up...

Can we borrow some toilet paper?

...and ready to go.

Hang on.

I shut the door and went to the back of the house to retrieve a roll of toilet paper.  I handed it to him, and he started to unravel it.

We just need a few sheets, he explained.

I cringed. Just take it.

Really?  The entire roll?

The entire roll.

He paused. Can we have two?

I'm not the toilet paper fairy.

He nodded and headed back up the stairs, calling up to our landlord.  Hey!  I have toilet paper! This is going to be the best New Year yet!

...

Speaking of new years - or new ventures - Will and I are heading out to Long Island tomorrow so I can meet the Entire Extended BetheFamily.   Updates are imminent...

...

Edited to Add, 10:45am: theslack.com's farewell letter.




August 10, 2007

Which One of These is Not Like the Other?

I remember the very first time I felt left out.  I was in grammar school - first grade, maybe - and my mother would drop me off two afternoons a week at the Park District to take ballet. Sometimes these lessons were right after school, so if we were running late I'd have to change in the cold basement of the building.  The bathroom was teeny, even for a 6-year old, and I'd slide on my tights and my leotard, bumping elbows and knees into the wood paneled walls.  No one from my school took classes, so I'd spend breaks sitting in the corner or going over the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies. 

One autumn afternoon was one of the girl's birthdays, and while they had cupcakes upstairs I changed in the cold basement.  By the time I crept up the concrete stairs, the Tupperware container with the leftover cupcakes was put away.  I didn't ask, and no one offered. 

Little did I know that I was only a bad haircut and an ironic t-shirt away from being an emo kid.

I'm 34 and those days should be behind me, and yet sometimes I sit back on the sidelines and wonder when when did this all happen?  A few months ago I read a post on a woman's blog which went something like I'm not one of these oooh-I-just-started-a-blog people, I've been doing it since 2003.  It was that moment when I realized that while I had been tippy-tapping at the slack, the whole blogging revolution just passed me by like a Tupperware container filled with cupcakes.

Some of it is my cantankerous nature.  Mr. Marx (not Karl!) refused to be a part of any club that accepted him as a member  and I'm not much different.  I'm not a joiner.  I hate to play to the political nature of most groups.  It's not because I'm punk rock or I'm smarter or I'm cooler (because let's face it, I'm not) but mostly because I don't worship at the cult of personality unless I really think it's someone worth worshiping.  One of the things that made me fall in love with Will is that I think that he's an amazing writer.  I read a lot of blogs (way more than what's linked on Ye Trusty Blogroll) and I think he's so fucking talented that sometimes I'm amazed at how easy he makes it look.  Why he's not making a living just doing this is completely beyond me.

Recently I received an email from BlogHer saying that they were accepting new blogs for advertising, and that my blog would qualify.  But can I take money from something I don't believe in?  It's something that feels inherently cliquey, like a grown-up version of high school, except that instead of being ignored by the popular kids you're ignored by the popular bloggers.  I could cut across cliques by making the high honor roll and writing full annotated research papers about SPAM products for fun one day then lighting up a cigarette and cutting class and drinking vodka out of  a plastic water bottle in the park with the burnouts the next.  If people can't manage to be welcoming in six keystrokes, what makes me think it would be different in person?

One of the things I loved about Consumating when I joined is that for a long time it had this everyone-is-accepted vibe, where every type of nerd was represented and actively welcomed.  It was a seven-layer cake of dorkdom, each part more delicious than the next.  I don't participate as much anymore, but I like to think that I was one of the Nerd Ambassadors, helping to foster that sort of goodwill.

My fat does not equal curvy comment got me kicked off friends' lists and blogrolls across the board.  I didn't say fat girls couldn't be curvy, but that one didn't automatically mean the other.  The jury announced their verdict not in open court but in technorati rankings and rss feeds.  I also know that to weasel myself into the good graces of the greater blogworld I need to smile and curtsy like a 1950's sorority girl.  Which honestly, I'd do if I had the stomach for it -- Hollywood has taught me how.  But this is the one perfect place in the Universe - a Mystery Spot, if you will - where I don't have to. 

Let them eat cupcakes.
 

August 08, 2007

Anonymously Yours.

I was reading a blog the other day that was causing me to get all twitchy.  It wasn't hatecrush material, it was just sort of one of those either I've changed or they've changed or maybe I just thought they're someone they're not.  I still wanted to speak out, to say something. For twenty minutes I worked on a response that was honest without being cruel. 

Maybe I should post it anonymously, I thought.

...

The Internet lends a wide cover to those who wish to remain anonymous.  You can use cloak your IP address and set up multiple email accounts.  You can provide false names and false addresses in case Big Brother is watching.  But in the blogging world, remaining anonymous seems to be for one of two reasons: control and fear, and usually?  It's both.

When the slack began in 1997, I used the moniker the slackmistress because my boyfriend at the time (who started the site!) wrote under the name the slackmaster.  When it was clear that his writing wasn't going to last (and neither was the relationship), he generously gave me control of the site.  I had been the slackmistress for about six months at that point, and I thought I'd just continue it until it died of natural causes.  I never dreamed that I would be doing this ten years later.

Initially, I didn't post a picture of myself or my name.  I loved the idea of the woman-behind-the-curtain, and I felt that if no one knew who I was, I could say whatever I wanted.  Not that what I was saying was all that provocative, I just liked the added safety net.  As the site got more popular, I realized that people weren't reading because I was cutting edge or snarky or particularly even funny, they were reading because I was real.  While I kept the slackmistress, I included my name - my real name - in an article or two.  Nina Bargiel and the slackmistress were still two different personalities duking it out in my head, not having become one and the same yet, but people didn't care.  It was just another layer chipped away.

Some people - wise people - write anonymously because they've had issues with stalkers or have young children or are concerned about fallout from work.  I've certainly had my share of bizarre interactions, but for the most part, I've been lucky to have none of those problems crop up.  In fact, the slack almost became my work for a period back in 2002 when it was looked at for source material for a television series.  I wasn't all that disappointed when it didn't happen, simply because it's my life and it'll always be there.

SlackDad was always concerned about stalkers and while I got my share of strange mail I decided to keep my physical identity a secret.  But after nine years I broke that rule, and in 2006 started posting photos.  And links - to my MySpace, to my IMDB, to my LinkedIn Profile.  Then there was Consumating, which put the social in social networking, and Flickr to document it all.

I am no longer anonymous.

Anonymity still creeps in along the edges of my online life.  Some are harmless, like the anonymous reader, of which there are plenty.  Some anonymous commenters simply don't want to give their name, but some just want an unobstructed view to throw rocks.  Same with the anonymous emailers, who must enjoy their attempts to be hurtful and cruel but when one throws out accusations and then doesn't back it up with a name, well, it's difficult to take them seriously.

Which brings me back to my anonymous comment.  I deleted the comment, closed the tab, and walked away.  If I'm going to say something, I'm going to put my name on it. Or I'm not going to say anything at all. 

June 28, 2007

Loose Ends.

Every day I thank the Universe for Will, my family, Daisy the WonderDog, and my Tivo.   While the first three do things like make me dinner, supply me with plenty of writing material, and let me scoop their poop (I'll let you figure out which is which), my Tivo makes it possible to skip commercials - most notably for The Starter Wife, which is described as "sexy and savvy" but is a more Rosie the Riveter if her war was on a multimillionaire Hollywood husband and the aging process and her job wasn't riveting but discussing plastic surgery and frolicking on the beach in Malibu while making out with Ken dolls.

Of course, this morning finds me typing away at the computer with some mindless entertainment in the background, and what happens to be on but The Starter Wife?  And it's pretty much the brain-numbing insipid tale that I predicted (minus the amazing Judy Davis).  There's nothing wrong for entertainment for entertainment's sake (obviously) but it's just that I can see the pitch meeting in my mind's eye, I can hear the word EMPOWERING! Everything is not empowering.  Everything doesn't need to be empowering.

Like my toothpaste:

Aquafreshx_1

(I am toothpaste, hear me roar?)

...

A Friend-o-Slack asked me what was going on with the slack, and if I had thought about compiling the articles into book form to hawk on lulu.com.  I never wanted to do this, as putting out a book of articles would be a way of saying that there wouldn't be any more.  But it's been a year since I've written anything, and I think that the slack may have run its course.  That's hard to type, considering that it's a project that started back in 1997.  Nearly ten years of my life lives on that site, and while I won't take it down, the fact is that I've evolved - hell, the Internet has evolved - past that.  I've thought about figuring out a way to combine the two, but why?

Over the next month I'm going to be working on putting together a best-of theslack.com.  Ideally it'll just pay for the upkeep of the site, domain and hosting and such.  Watch this space for further details.

...

Happy Fourth Birthday Sneeze!

April 08, 2007

Easter, Quickly.

A few questions for this Easter Sunday:

  • Is it cheating for atheists to eat Easter Candy?
  • Did everyone see the following comment by Older SlackBrother J. regarding my post the other day? Take it easy. Spend the whole day in bed if you want. Remember it's Good Friday. If Jesus can take a three day nap, I'm sure it's okay to blow off just one.
  • What do Peeps have have to do with Easter, anyway?  I commented once that Peeps seem to last forever, so maybe it was a whole You-Can't-Keep-a_Good-Jesus-Down thing.  That garnered me a piece of hate mail and a couple of people unsubscribing from theslack.com's mailing list.
  • When I saw the two mechanics trying to jumpstart a Delorean at the Auto Shop, why didn't I tell them that they needed a flux capacitor?  (Okay, that's not really an Easter Question.)

Pre-Easter Dinner Nibbles:

Img_0379


Prosciutto, baked ricotta and roasted red peppers on toasted french bread.


Happy Whatever-You-Believe Day!

Edited, 3:45pm:

Mr. Boy: Y'know, I liked the first part of the bible.  They screwed up the sequel.

younger slackbrother j.: Yeah, the New Testament is the wussy New-Age God.

slackmistress:  I know!  In the Old Testament you get plagues and pillars of salt--

Mr. Boy: --and the New Testament is all Gospels and feelings and stuff.

slackmistress:  People always change when they have kids.


Img_0383

Easter dinner: Garlic and rosemary-crusted chateaubriand with horseradish over roasted potatoes. 


February 08, 2007

Grate(ful) Expectations.

After the drama of the past couple of days, I'm just beat. So in lieu of any real content, today I give you:

The Slackmistress Good List

1. Will. I didn't want to date him. I was going to set him up with anyone that was Not Me. Thankfully my stupidity only lasted a few weeks, and thankfully he figured out that magic combination of waiting and wooing. People who meet him immediately understand why he's the person I want to marry. He just makes it work, and he doesn't even need duct tape or chewing gum to do it. I feel sorry for the other girls on the planet who won't have the opportunity to have a Fake Detective Agency with him, but them's the breaks.

Nyemewill_2_2
(I love this picture.)


2. Daisy the WonderDog. Because she is a WonderDog. Everyone who meets her insists she's teh best dog on the planet. How does she do it? I don't know, and she's not telling. Not only is she good, but she's stylish, as evidenced by her fabulous new collar.

384111632_0a5f84d6f7
(Sleeeeeepy.)

3. The SlackFamily. Sure, sure, I make fun. How can I not? The tale of SlackDad's aversion to me using the word 'penis' and the trail of thin mint cookies is a modern day Hansel & Gretel. SlackMom's House of Fuck is a Slack Classic, not to mention the Sex Talk. Older SlackBrother J. and younger slackbrother j. are characters in their own right, and slack S-i-L M. and baby slackniece round out the sitcom. However, as insane as they all are, they're supportive and kind and exceedingly generous. And they give me plenty to write about.

363693404_aca2b757ed
(SlackFamily and the Witness Protection Baby)

4. Future SlackDadinLaw. Because he leaves comments like this and this.

(No photo of Future SlackDadinLaw! Blame Mr. Boy.)


5. All y'all. It's nice to know who's on the other side of the screen.

(You all know what you look like.)

With the roommate drama mostly solved, Mr. Boy and I are off to Vegas tomorrow. To plan our wedding. How weird is that?

February 06, 2007

Hatecrush 'r Us.

As some of you may (or may not) know, there's been Roommate Drama 'round these parts, as Mr. Boy's Supposedly-Temporary Roommate has decided that an Ass Grows in Our Second Bedroom. With thirty days' notice, he has found himself right where he began, albeit with more Taco Bell Wrappers and empty beer bottles. Of course, he magically disappears when Mr. Boy is home, so the entire script is being played out via voicemail, as Temporary Roommate doesn't like confrontation. My guess is that he's about to be confronted with his belongings on the front lawn ASAP. Stay tuned as the story unfolds.

But today, I'm not going to talk about that. Today I'm going to talk about me. Last night I had an odd dream. I was heading to Vegas (which I'm doing this weekend) avec Will (which I am also doing) and another couple (which we are not doing.) I didn't know this other couple, meaning that they have no counterparts in my everyday life. The woman took Will aside and asked if they could drive separately, and stay separately, and well, pretty much just weekend separately, because she didn't like me.

I called her, more perplexed than upset or angry. But you don't even know me! I countered. Get to know me, then dislike me all you want!

The timing was certainly cute, as last night I was discussing with Mr. Boy my general lack of comments. Sure, when people who have a hatecrush make themselves known. But my visitor to comment ratio is retardedly low. I don't get it, Mr. Boy told me. How is it that hundreds and hundreds of people visit and have nothing to say?

For a long time I chalked it up to the fact that when I started the slack back in 1997, there wasn't really a way to interact with my audience. Regular readers either emailed me or didn't respond at all.

However, there is also the contigent of People Who Don't Like Me. There's the one that called me a slut to a mutual friend (not knowing he was a mutual friend at the time) because I had the audacity to go out a few times with a boy she liked, even though I didn't know her, I didn't know she liked him, he didn't like her in that way, and I even made the effort to be nice. Is she checking to confirm my sluttiness? In hopes that Something Terrible Has Happened?

There's a few folks from MFW who dislike me because years and years ago I dated someone who had a tendency to be an asshole. Or maybe it's just that I was Annoying. I'm not exactly sure, but as one of the few females in the boys' locker room, you get used to such behavior.

So my question for the play-at-home-audience: why do you read? Not just me, but any of the blogs you frequent? Curiosity? Nosiness? Schadenfreude?

If you're too shy to comment, hit me up at theslackdaily@theslack.com.

December 27, 2006

Please Stand By...

I'm feeling out of sorts today. But because I love you (and you, and you, and especially you) I'm going to spare you the whiny post and instead post one of my favorite slack articles ever.

The House of Fuck

I was five years old and in kindergarten, wearing my red, black and yellow argyle wool dress with a white blouse, thick black nubby tights and patent leather mary janes, my long black hair hung to my waist in two thick, shiny plaits. The entire class was seated at two long tables, seventeen sets of eyes all on the substitute teacher. We had never had a substitute teacher before, and in my childhood mind, this was my idea of intrigue. Drama. I didn’t know how this woman was, but now she was going to lead our motley group in Arts & Crafts!

She was blonde, and I remember her as pretty, although I remember everyone as pretty back in those days. Her too-big adult hands worked the pint-sized scissors through a thick piece of construction paper. She folded and cut and unfolded and cut some more and suddenly she had in her hands the form of a round-bellied little person.

You’ll decorate them to look like you! Won’t that be fun?

This is where she lost me. I didn’t appreciate her patronizing tone. My mother didn’t use it. My father, when I saw him, didn’t use it. Out-Sick Mrs. Parmeter never used it.

Besides, I would have rather decorated them to look like someone else. I was just a five year old with a big brain and long black hair; that wouldn’t take long to do. I wanted to decorate my paper doll as Famous Writer or Famous Veterinarian. Or Lost Russian Princess, sitting on a wine-colored sofa in front of a roaring fire with a fur blanket pulled around me for warmth.

But this wasn’t an imagination drill, so I’d toe the party line like I always did, and leave the imaginationing to my brain, which always worked overtime in such cases.

We formed a polite kindergarten line to receive our materials, having been taught the Rules of Polite Society by our Mrs. Parmeter. First the twins, Alice and Sarah. Then Amy. Then Jay. Then me.

She handed me a piece of thick white construction paper and a pair of scissors with green rubber gripping on the handles.

Those are lefty scissors, I told her.

There are other kids waiting in line, she told me brightly.

I'm not a lefty.

The other kids are waiting.

That was it. I’m not a fucking lefty, I told her. And those are fucking lefty scissors.

All color left her pink face and her mouth formed a round O. I shrugged and dropped the green-handled scissors into the box where she had gotten them from, and selected a pair of regular scissors. I grabbed them by the blades, point down. Safety first and all that.

I returned to my seat and began working on my doll.

Later that evening, my mother attended a PTA meeting. I was at the kitchen table, reading a book and eating crackers when she came home. She made herself a cup of coffee and asked if I wanted one. I did. She sat down at the kitchen table and shook out a cigarette from her package of Newport Lights, stuck it in her mouth, and lit it. I sipped my coffee and watched as she inhaled deeply through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. I loved the smell of my mother’s cigarettes.

She finally spoke. Did you say fuck in school today?

I thought back. Yeah, I did.

What happened?

I told her about it. The paper dolls, the patronizing tone. The sheer lack of imagination. The lefty scissors.

She tapped an ash into the ashtray on the table. No, no you are not.

It suddenly occurred to me that I might be in trouble. I looked at her nervously. She smiled, shaking her head which made the afro-like curls on her head bounce.

Language like that we should only use at home. That’s not for school.

Oh. I didn’t know.

I know you didn’t. It’s not your fault.

I’m sorry.

Don’t be sorry, you didn’t know. Now that you do, I know you’re smart enough to figure it out, kid. I just forget that you’re five sometimes, and not forty.

It happens. I shrugged.

She laughed and tapped out the cigarette on the green glass ashtray, this time resting it on the notched edge so she could pull out her double deck of cards. She shuffled and began laying out a game of solitaire.

I watched, mesmerized, as I always did. I took a sip of the sweet, hot coffee. Mom selected a card and began to play.

What the fuck, mom?

She laughed again, not one of those aren’t-you-adorable? laughs, but a real, throaty, adult laugh. She took another puff on her cigarette.

Yeah, kid. What the fuck?

October 25, 2006

Fan Mail.

Today I received the following email.


First, let me say, that I think your blogs (both written and video) are a joy to read and watch. I'm a fan. I think you have an insight and wit greater than most of the women I've ever known (of course, I don't actually know you).

With that said, this is going to sound unnecessarily mean and "un-PC", but I'm compelled to say it. Again, I feel like shit for even thinking it, but oh well, I've always been brutally honest, for better, and usually for worse.

Here it goes. Have you given honest consideration to the fact that if you dropped a few lbs., got a nose job (assuming you rectify your finances in the near future), and grew your hair out a bit, you'd have a free-ride in life? IMO, in terms of physical beauty, there's no reason for someone that could be a solid '9' accept being a '6.5/7' (Argh, the dreaded scale!). Is this completely shallow? Maybe? I don't think so. Is the pursuit of emotional/psychological perfection (which is almost unanimously accepted as worthy) mutually exclusive from the pursuit of physical perfection (which is almost unanimously met with derision)?

I fully expect you to crucify me in response, or more likely, decline to respond at all. My only concern would be hurting your feelings, which wasn't my intent, but I've likely done (it's only natural when questioning someone's attractiveness). For that I'm sorry. At the same time, I think you can process this with proper perspective knowing my intent isn't malicious.

It took me nearly eight years to post a photo of my face on the slack. In part because I wanted to maintain some sense of privacy, but mostly because I didn’t want to subject myself to the scrutiny of a wide audience. Or any audience, to be honest. I got to be The Great and Powerful Oz and hide behind my words. I didn’t have to be pretty.

Because I was never pretty. Growing up, I was the Smart Girl. But I wanted to be the Pretty Girl. Most Smart Girls do at one time or another. And yes, the world really was that black and white. I wasn’t the only one who thought so. Your friend K. is pretty, my mother would tell me. You’re smart. It was the one compliment I was always certain to get.

I didn't want to be smart. I wanted to be blonde. I wanted to be cute. I wanted that straight-up-and-down stick-figure that every other Pretty Girl had.

But I didn’t.

I had dark hair and bushy eyebrows and big eyes and an hourglass figure on an eight-year-old’s body. I had crooked teeth and an overbite and oversized eyes that I hid behind a book. Adolescence was equally unkind, as braces and bad skin and an even worse perm followed me through junior high and high school. My entire childhood prepared me for the role of the Fat Funny Best Friend. The Wisecracking Sidekick. The Girl with the Good Personality.

A few years ago, I lost sixty pounds. And braces. Again. Then jaw surgery.

I wasn’t a Swan. But I was no longer the Ugly Duckling.

I changed so much that the guy who dated one of my good friends in high school sent me a message over MySpace asking did you know J.? I dated her and she graduated your year. Even with a clear, unphotoshopped picture of my face, he still had no clue who I was.

I realize that there’s more to life than what you look like. I wouldn’t have been able to survive the past thirty years intact had I thought otherwise. A lot of women tsk-tsk and say that they’d never want to look like a Brazilian Supermodel, when I say I’d love to know what it’s like, six feet tall with legs up to there and a face that stops traffic.

But I no longer feel bad that I don’t look that way.

Not being beautiful has never cost me a job or a boyfriend. Sure, I wanted to be prettier. Who wouldn’t? I’ve also wanted a pony. So I didn’t win that particular event in the DNA Olympics. I won others.

We can’t gold medal in everything.

I was saying to a friend of mine the other day that being in front of a camera is still an alien concept. The idea that what I look like is anything but a detriment is an alien concept.

The idea that someone would consider me unattractive is not.

My world fell apart over the past ten months. Injuries, girly issues and a thyroid condition contributed to a thirty pound weight gain in the past two years, fifteen of which I’ve lost. My career is a mess, my relationship fell apart, my finances are a joke.

I wanted to continue to hide behind the curtain. It would have been the safe thing to do.

I didn’t want to be safe any more. I didn’t want to hide. I didn’t want to apologize for what I looked like. I think doing what scares you is a good thing. So I jumped in.

And while the response has mostly been positive, I have received plenty of negative emails. Always on what I looked like, never on what I said. But they were usually sent from throwaway email addresses, sucker punches thrown anonymously. This was the first that was thought out, was reasoned, was sent with an actual name attached.

I’m not offended by the email, mostly just confused. What sort of free ride would I get if I was a “9” instead of a “6.5/7”? What do those extra points buy me? It would make sense if he was offering me a job, let’s say, something tangible and in-front-of-the-camera. But that's not the case.

Anyway, I don’t want a free ride. I want to pay my own way.

That’s not to say that I’m not working at losing these final 15 pounds. I’ve been working my ass off to, well, work my ass off. My hair, well, that’s a matter of personal preference.

And excuse me, but my nose is fine.

I know I’m perfectly cute. I also know I also live in a world where there are girls who are cuter than me. Who are skinner than me.

But they don't have the one thing I do have.

Me.

September 12, 2006

How Hollywood Works.

1. Come up with Fabulous TV Movie Pitch for Kids' Channel. Manager luf luf lufs it.

2. Manager calls Kids' Channel. Phone tag commences.

3. And continues.

4. And continues.

5. And continues.

6. After six weeks, Writing Partner packs up his house. He puts wife and baby on plane and gets in car to start the drive back to Chicago. Hits the road at 11am today.

7. Phone call comes at 5pm. Kids' Channel wants us to come and pitch. Tomorrow.

8. Freakout.

9. Freakout.

10. Writing Partner turns car around.


You know the drill. Think good thoughts!

Oh, and checkit:

Cardfinal2

('scuse the not-so-great scan quality...)