Clarifications. Also: Wherein I Rant About Ann Romney Getting $77,000 from the US Government for Her Ballet Horse

It was not a particularly eventful weekend. We'd been supposed to meet Friend Randy for drinks on Friday, but he came down with some food poisoning, so those plans were put on hold -- we spent the evening on the couch.  Saturday, my mother came to visit, and the combination of my mother and my husband is always a fraught one.  They're both lovely people, but they act all weird around each other, and stress each other out, and stress me out, and it's never a very pleasant arrangement.  I don't know that any mixing of in-laws is ever quite normal, so I don't think this is very strange, I just don't think it's a very awesome way to spend a Saturday afternoon, either.  Mom did treat us to breakfast at Piper's Pub, though.

Then Saturday night we went to The Oaks to see The Princess Bride - it was this week's Moonlit Matinee.  The Princess Bride is pretty much one of the best movies ever, and I'd never had the opportunity to see it in a movie theater, with popcorn, so that was awesome.  

Sunday was noteworthy because we splurged on take-out Indian from Taste of India up on Penn. Yesterday my mother came to visit -- just she and I this time -- and we had lunch (at Jimmy Wan's, which has a nice lunch special: a variety of entrees [I favor the General Tso's Shrimp and the Dim Sum Sampler] that come with your choice of rice [brown, white, fried] and appetizer [I like the hot & sour soup, Mom usually goes spring roll] for between $9 and $12) and a beer and went to the farmers' market.

I made the mistake of complaining on Sunday that I was bored.  Several of my friends on Facebook took this as an opportunity to tell me I should get a job, as though jobs aren't boring as hell.  I think they were well-meaning -- either that or misery loves company -- but it made me decide to make some clarifying statements about being broke for months at a time while not working.

To begin with, when I say I'm bored, I don't mean, "I miss work."  While I like my job as an adjunct as much as I think it is possible for me to like a job, that doesn't mean that I love work per se and do it for any reason other than the need of money.  If I had the option, I would never work at a job another day in my life.  No, I do not think that work, in and of itself, is ennobling; no, I do not think I have a responsibility to contribute.  (To what?)  If Ted made more money, I would stay at home, reading, blogging, tidying, cooking, and otherwise amusing myself for the rest of my life, joyful to never again suffer under the yoke of responsibility that is work.

And besides, what possible job would I get over the summer?  Subway sandwich girl?  No.  Just no.  If Ted was unemployed and our home had been foreclosed on and I was living in my car with five cats, I would go work at the Subway.  Otherwise ... just no.  If that's the only job you can get, and you need a job, that's fine.  But I doubt very much anyone would say that they wanted such a job, or would go out looking for one if they didn't absolutely need it.  And anyway, how on Earth would such a job alleviate anyone's boredom?  Have you ever worked a job like that?  I've never worked specifically at Subway, but I've worked as the girl behind the snack counter at a movie theater and the girl who takes you to a table at Eat 'n' Park -- such jobs are boring as shit.  The hours crawl, only slowed by the moronic bullshit trail left behind by The Public and the idiot managers who are inevitably 55 IQ points below their dumbest employee.  And it's not like such a job would pay well enough to alleviate the actual problem, which is ...

I miss going out.  I miss going out to eat.  I miss going out to the bar.  I miss going to movies and such not.  I don't miss work, I miss money.  I realize that I've got a lot of privilege to be able to complain about this -- other people don't have enough food, let alone enough entertainment.  I have a house and two window air conditioners and healthy food and an internet connection -- no one's actually suffering here.  But since this blog is about an unemployed academic over the summer, I might as well make clear that I don't miss work, I miss money and the things it buys.  The sad thing is, compared to people who actually have money, I have only the most plebeian of desires: to go out for Indian food and sushi and cocktails.  It's not like I'm like, "Oh damn, I couldn't afford the entrance fee to the dressage tournament" -- I just miss drinking at Sidelines instead of on my couch.  (Though I'll confess I do miss going for pedicures with Friend Carley.  My toes are all sad looking lately.)

***

Speaking of dressage, and I know this is completely switching gears, but I have to get it off my chest: what the fuck, Ann Romney?  It's probably apparent that I'm no fan of the Republican party or its presidential nominee (which doesn't mean I'm a huge Obama fan either, but that's not the point at the moment).  Of the many, many, many things I dislike about the Romneys, one of them is the fact that they are rich as Croesus.  Not just, "Oh good for you, you worked hard and succeeded and have a nice house and paid for your kids' undergrad degrees and get to go on vacation every year" rich.  Like, Solid Gold Mansion on the Moon with an  Elevator for Each of Their Three Dozen Cars rich.  Which is ridiculous -- no one should be that fuckin' rich.  No one needs to be.  Wealth redistribution foreva, bitchez.

So anyway, apparently a thing people who are incredibly, unnecessarily wealthy do is buy horses that cost as much as the house I live in plus the house my mother lives in plus another house, and teach them to dance daintily to music, and this is called "dressage".  Fuckin' horse ballet.  And apparently, in 2010 Ann Romney got a $77,000 tax break for her ballet horse. Let me repeat that: A SEVENTY-SEVEN THOUSAND DOLLAR TAX BREAK FOR HORSE BALLET.  $77,000 is more than the average American household's income -- about $27,000 more.  How the fuck do you get a tax break for horse ballet?  Well, apparently, Ann claims that her dancing horse is a business.  Now, to my mind, teaching a fancy horse to dance around all fancy for fun sounds like a hobby at best, but apparently the government disagrees.  So she got to write off the money she spent on her ballet horse as a business loss.  (Never mind that people that wealthy shouldn't get to write any fucking thing off their taxes, except for charity.) (No, horse ballet is not a charity -- I see what you're thinking, there, Ann.)

Look, there's a lot to be said about income disparity in America, the privilege of the haves and the sufferings of the have-nots.  I don't feel like rehashing all that here.  My point is this: Ann Romney, who is a multi-millionaire, got to deduct a sum of money far greater than the average American household income from her taxes, because her fancy dancing pony is a "business".  Meanwhile, almost a quarter of all American children don't have enough food to eat (and yes, Mitt Romney wants to cut food aid to the poor).

What the everloving fuck, America?

/rant

Image from the awesome www.shakesville.com

Angry Gin-drinker is Angry About Capitalism

Oh, Lord, yinz.  Lord, sweet Jesus.  June is upon us and we are so fucking broke.  I never say we're poor -- Ted makes a decent salary, per se, and I make a ... salary for most of the year, so it's not reasonable to say we're poor.  But between debt and my natural disposition to let money run through my fingers, we're constantly broke.  But never moreso than June through September.  Being an academic is wonderful for many reasons, but the reliable paycheck isn't one of them.

I saw this dog today.  He was very intense.

How broke?  Yinz, Ted got his paycheck, and after all our bills are paid for this half of the month (the gas bill WILL be late), we've got $270 to live on until the 15th.

Talking about this shit is fraught, y'know?  Because 1) I know that we have A LOT of privilege.  Ted and I are both very educated, very white, very straight, and have supportive families that have helped us when we've gotten just too far below the waterline.  And 2) $270 is enough money to feed two people and five cats for 14 days, and we don't NEED things like trips to the movies, beer, or ... beer.  But on the other hand, I have beef with that old canard that goes like, "Poor people shouldn't waste their money on [things other people enjoy regularly and even take for granted].  They know they're poor, they should saaaaaaaave."  I have always been offended by the idea that people who aren't poor think that poor people shouldn't enjoy a nice pair of new shoes sometimes, a nice date out with dinner and a show, a nice trip with their kids to an amusement park.  Yes, those things can be costly, but the suggestion that poor people should forego every costly, pleasant thing just because they're poor is offensively dehumanizing.

Now, as I said above, though, Ted and I aren't poor, we're broke -- and frequently irresponsible with money.  (Though definitely not as irresponsible as we could be.)  But, as far as that goes, I've got thoughts too.  Look, I'm smart.  I know how to add and subtract, I know how the economy works generally, I know that I'm in debt to a multitude of usurious purveyors, etc.  But I refuse to give too big a damn about money.  Life is -- actually, really, not figuratively -- really fucking short, and I don't intend to spend mine obsessing over something as joyless as money.  I realize that this is a form of privilege too -- many people actually, really, literally have to worry about money every moment of the day, and if they don't their kids don't get fed.  No one in this country should be in that position; but the Mitt Romneys of the world like it when other people suffer, so here we are.  But in any event, I'm not in that position, thank a merciful God -- I've got $270 to live on for two weeks, and a credit card in an emergency.  And so, broke or not, I just refuse to devote my life to scrimping and worrying and otherwise doting over money, so far as it is possible for me to avoid it.

But damn yo, we are pretty broke.

Indian food and gin. How British of me.

So, in honor of that, we got Indian take away and I am drinking a bunch of gin.  Tomorrow I will go to the Strip, buy cheap things to eat like greens and chicken thighs and pasta and bread, and so forth.

You might be able to tell I already have some gin in me.  Whatever,  In summation: fuck capitalism.  Seriously.  Fuck it.  We've got five advanced degrees in this house, how are we living off $270?

ANYHOODLE.

Today my supportive mother came to visit.  She took me to lunch at Jimmy Wan's and to see Men in Black III, which was shockingly good.  She also bought us a new puzzle, so guess what's on our agenda.

Instead of ads on the inside of the bathroom stall doors, Waterworks Cinema puts up little fortunes and platitudes.  This is also very intense, I feel, at least for a bathroom stall door.