hey pretty

All Whores Are Equal, But Some Are More Equal Than Others, Apparently

If you've been keeping up with political gossip this week you are probably aware of the fact that the Elliot Spitzer scandal may have overlaps with the infamous Washingtonienne debacle of several years ago.

To rehash old gossip, Cutler was a low-level Hill staffer who traded sexual favors for cash and lame clothing with DC mucky-mucks. She recorded her experiences on her personal blog, was outed by Wonkette.com, earned her 15 minutes of fame by posing for Playboy and penning a novel based on her experiences, then spent the next several years enmeshed in a defamation suit brought on by one of her former paramours.

Now it seems that Cutler may have been working as an escort at the very same service that Spitzer frequented.

Juicy stuff indeed, and the website Jezebel has been all over it. In a recent news round-up, Jezebel labels Cutler a "the biggest whore in Washington" and seems to be having a good gloat at Cutler's expense.

Jezebel, which is run by the same Internet media empire that spawned Wonkette, bills itself as a women's magazine that women would actually want to read. Its manifesto includes an assault on the lies perpetuated my mainstream glossies aims towards women, railing against the "alpha girls [who] are entitled to act cruel and inhuman towards their subordinates."


In other words, it framed itself as alt-publication for progressively-minded women in the Third Wave Feminist tradition of Bust and others of its ilk.



By in large, I very much enjoy reading Jezebel. I find its pop culture commentary an amusing escape from reality. But I'm having a difficult time swallowing the whole Cutler-is-a-whore pill. To date, Jezebel has been somewhat sympathetic towards sex workers. They praised a recent art show illuminating the experiences of said women, and on one occasion published a missive praising Heidi Fleiss as "wise."

So Fleiss, who ran an infamous prostitution ring is "wise" whereas Cutler, who accepted money and gifts from powerful men in exchange for sex is simply a "whore?" Huh?

By in large, the media has been quite cruel to Jessica Cutler. I admit that I met her once before the whole Washingtonienne thing went down and I wasn't a huge fan. It had nothing to do with her lifestyle, as that was something I was unaware of. I simply didn't care for her personality. She didn't seem especially impressed with me either, and we both went our separate ways. No biggie, not everyone is destined to be BFFs.

I didn't give her another moment's thought until the Washingtoninne thing broke. I admit that I experienced a bit of holier-than-thou smugness at her travails. I mean, here's a brash, attractive woman getting a little bit of karmic retribution for being somewhat annoying in real life. And I will fully admit to feeling a bit jealous that she managed to rake in a book deal as a result of her experiences. I mean, what mediocre blogger doesn't dream of someday hitting it big with their own novel?

But since then my attitude towards Cutler has shifted. I can't imagine what it must be like for complete strangers to malign you every chance they get for poor decisions you made in your mid-twenties. It's gotta suck, but people all over the world love to have a good laugh at Cutler's expense.

And now Jezebel, the Queen Bee of the so-called feminist blogs is calling Cutler out for being a "whore," a word loaded will a myriad of degrading social connotations.

Come on ladies, what happened to standing up for the rights of sex workers? Personal opinions of Cutler aside, you can't ride the hip pro-sex worker rights bandwagon while perpetuating negative stereotypes of other sex workers. It simply makes you look petty and underhanded.

What good is a pro-woman blog if at the end of the day, it stoops to the same rhetoric of the channels of communication it was invented to subvert?

The Four Hour Interview--How to Survive It

1.) Wake up way earlier than you need to in hopes of slowly preparing for interview.

2.) Procure coffee; make breakfast. Read over the notes that you dutifully compiled the night before. Check to make sure you have at least 10 good questions to ask should the interview conversation ever slow for some reason.

3.) Shower.

4.) Look at clock and realize that 90 minutes has passed since you woke up and a mere 30 are left until you're scheduled to leave the house.

5.) Run around bedroom cursing for a bit before calming down to
resume getting ready.

6.) Apply makeup. Really, just a small amount because you're naturally pretty and don't need much, but also because this is a non-profit and nobody there will be at all impressed with your relationship with NARS products, and in fact may look down on you for being too glammed up.

7.) Straighten hair.

8.) Look out window and discover that it's raining and hair that you just labored over to make sleek and straight may in fact now frizz. Curse curly-haired genes and hiring biases towards WASPs.

9.) Throw on interview suit.

10.) Hunt for umbrella. Double check interview notes.

11.) Realize you should have left the house 5 minutes ago.

12.) Check wallet for cab money. Discover lack of cash. Spend several minutes debating merits of cab vs metro. Realize time spent debating issue has rendered argument moot and time has run out to take metro and arrive at interview on time.

13.) Triple-check possessions. Run out of house. Fly down street to ATM machine.

14.) Flag down cab. Feel really bad that you're taking a cab to get to interview at environmental group. Assure yourself that punctuality trumps carbon emissions this one time. Have cab drop you off a block away. Vow to purchase carbon offsets once employment train comes in. Remind yourself that you deeply distrust whole business of carbon off-sets and feel conflicted. Hope carbon off-sets aren't discussed in interview.

15.) Announce presence at front desk. Wait 10 minutes for your interviewer to be ready for you. Wonder if the metro might have been an okay option after all.

16.) Chat amiably with potential future boss for a good 45 minutes. Be smart, ask good questions.

17.) Be excited to meet with an additional three people. Repeat same information already shared with potential future boss. Smile, use grownup voice. Collect business cards.

18.) Do not mind one bit whatsoever when potential future boss tells you it's time to do a writing test. Do not blanch pale white when she hands you a stack of news articles to digest about a topic you know next to nothing about.

19.) Commence writing test. Develop message and draft content for two separate types of writing pieces. Trust instincts on message-framing. BS only a small amount.

20.) IGNORE hunger pangs that set in around 12:30 when you're only partially through with writing test. DO NOT daydream about the Balance Bar you should have put in your purse earlier.


21.) Experience brief moment of paralysis when you temporarily think you've completely botched writing assignment. Calm down, perform small edits. Look at clock to see you've spent almost 2.5 hours on writing test and that you are TIRED OF LOOKING AT IT.

22.) Declare yourself to be finished with writing test.


23.) Say the proper goodbyes, wash water glass in kitchen sink. Feel very at-home in new environment. Engage in conversation with obligatory "office character" who asks you how your interview went when you're within earshot of two of the people who you met with.
Mutter something optimistic yet vague. Try to sound like viable addition to office culture without sounding like you've already moved your favorite coffee mug in to stay permanently.

24.) Scoot on home to prepare for onslaught of emails and IMs from friends and family inquiring about interview.

25.) Blow off steam. Eat lunch. Write thank-yous. Share experience on interweb.

A Crash Course in Crisis Communications

As a seasoned communications professional, I know that when it comes to crisis-management, it's often best to own up to your own mistakes and take responsibility for a particular debacle. Actually, my mother taught me that when I was 12, but as a communications professional, I must spin it as some sort of revelation.

It came as a huge shock to me, when at 3pm this afternoon, I received an email from tomorrow's job interviewer asking me why I had missed today's interview. Since I rarely get emails from the future, I was temporarily flummoxed. I never miss meetings or personal appointments. Sure, I misplace posessions such as keys, iPods, phones and lip glosses all the time, but reliability is one of strong points as a human being. Not only am I reliable, I am punctual. Almost to a fault, if such a thing is possible. If you ever have plans to hang out with me and find yourself running late, don't think for an instant that you might be saved because maybe *I'm* running late. I won't care if you're late. But I will care if I am. So I'll be waiting for you at the bar, most likely reading the book I have brought with me to entertain myself with.

Anyway. The future emailed, quite irritated with me because I had apparently flaked out on a job interview, which in my mind is probably the worst thing one can do when trying to land a job.

But then my mind slowly started to churn out a vague memory of a
series of emails *rescheduling* the interview to today. D'oh. A quick search of my inbox revealed this to be the case. But it also revealed a salient fact. We had never settled on a specific time. Thus...I must have been awaiting her confirmation, which is why I never changed it on my calendar.

Ha! Not entirely my fault. Only 90% my fault.

Yet I dutifully accepted full responsibility and the interview was rescheduled to tomorrow morning--my karmic punishment, as I am totally not a morning person and mornings are not the time to ask me to impress, yet along remember my name.

While I am shaking this off, and am determined to rock the interview anyway, I know this is a terrible first impression. And it's awful to make a bad first impression over something you could have prevented. Should I show up tomorrow and the interviewer expects me to converse in perfect Swahili, well that will be a debacle completely out of my hands.

Sometimes in life, you just have to accept responsibility for something and move on without letting it trip you up any further.
I am almost finished feeling bad about this, just as the interviewer is hopefully almost finished feeling bad about the bitchy emails she sent me in reaction to my truancy.

I truly hope this woman and I get along better in real life than we do over email. Because we are not off to a good start.

The other day EJ and I were discussing the whole idea of becoming your best self, despite apparent set backs. I think this is a pretty great example of that struggle, don't you?

You Belong In the Zoo...

Your Unemployed Friend: A User's Guide

Joblessness sucks all around, but it can be especially confusing for the career-minded among us--those people who can't fathom a life removed from the corporate grind, year-end bonuses, billable hours, and lunch breaks at Au Bon Pain. Yet it happens to the best of us, and when it does, it's important to support those among us who are experiencing it. Since many Washingtonians are so high-powered and special that they'd never fall prey to corporate down-sizing, I have compiled this list of do's and don'ts when it comes to dealing with another person's sudden joblessness.

Don't: Begin a conversation with "Hey, how's the job hunt going?" Your friend lives with their lack of employment day in and day out. The last thing (s)he needs is a reminder of it from you who earns six figures and has three assistants.

Do: Buy your friend lunch.

Don't: Expect your friend to apply for every single job out there. Remember that you got to where you are by having standards, so afford your friend the same level of respect.

Do: Offer up networking contacts should you have any in your friend's field of work.

Don't: Be a competitive jerk. Say for instance, that you're trying to move up a level in your chosen profession and your friend is going after the same types of jobs. Do not belittle your friend's professional experience and imply that they can't do the same jobs as you. If you can't take a little friendly competition, move to the Ozarks and take up farming.

Do: Understand that while your friend may appear to be living the easy life with their lack of schedules and obligations, they may be prone to some major anxieties. Don't take their moods personally.

Don't: Suggest social plans that require spending lots of money.

Do: Send your friend job listings that may interest them. But don't get offended if your friend doesn't apply for said position. They have their reasons and you need to respect that.

Don't: Treat your friend like a charity case. For instance, they may not want your sloppy seconds whether those involve items of clothing* or jobs themselves. Remember what I said about standards? Same applies here.

Don't: Apply your values and perceptions of career issues to your friend's situation. For instance, if your friend is lucky enough to collect unemployment compensation, don't constantly ask them why they don't have a part time job simply because it's something you would get.


In summation, unemployment is a difficult experience and can befall just about anyone. In dealing with your jobless friends, remember one crucial fact: it can happen to you too. Think about how you would want to be treated and proceed accordingly.

*Unless said item is nice black dress with spaghetti straps, a sweetheart neckline and an A-line skirt that suits them perfectly. Shout-out to E for nailing that one.

Adventures in Kitchen Eco Systems

It began with an onion...

Which, I had failed to notice, had sprouted a glorious tail of new greenery. Through a quick Internet search I was reminded that the sprout was perfectly edible.

So after a small amount of culinary ingenuity involving a saute pan and some extra ingredients, it eventually morphed into...

(Wilted mustard & onion greens, breaded chicken breast, medium boiled eggs, grape tomatoes, chick peas and goats cheese with a simple vinaigrette). Boo. Ya. 

File Under: Obsolescence

Today's Washington Post Magazine section features eulogies for cultural artifacts and modes of behavior that are slipping into distinction thanks to emerging technologies. Featured among them are mix tapes, blind dates, land lines and cash. Good inclusions all, but they missed a major one: making plans ahead of time.

The ascension of cell phones in modern day society means that many people are available to communicate at a moment's notice. By having tiny telephones that we carry in our purses, pockets, or even strapped to our personage, we open ourselves up to the possibility of being available to our friends, loved ones and employers whenever those people might wish to contact us.

There's a lot to be argued in favor of this development. Emergencies can be attended to more efficiently, for one. It has done away with the literal construct of "waiting by the telephone", if not the metaphorical one. These days we no longer have to arrange our communication habits around our daily activities. True to the multi-tasking nature of advanced technological societies, we can now update our mothers on our job searches while browsing the cheese display at Whole Foods or waiting for the bus.

But what this development has also created is the expectation that our friends, families, and employees *should* be available to talk simply *because* they can. I for one, freely admit to growing frustrated with people who don't answer my calls when I know perfectly well that they're carrying a cell phone in the back pocket of their trousers, and that their ass is literally buzzing with my desire to converse, even though I regularly ignore calls when they come into my own cell.

It has also made the activity of making plans in advance something that is regularly eschewed in favor of spontaneous action. It's another manifestation of our collective inability to commit. In a way it's kind of nice, when at 9:30 on a Saturday, somebody texts you to come meet them at a bar. But on the other hand, if you've spent your day volunteering, running errands, walking around the city and making dinner, you may be too exhausted to entertain the notion of changing out of your lounging attire and into presentable threads.


This happened to me last night. I had spent my day doing good, wandering around Mount Pleasant, and pumping money into the economy. By late afternoon I was exhausted. The only activity that sounded at all appealing involved a sofa, a stack of magazines, a big screen TV and a remote control. Yet a little after 9 pm I heard the text message alert on my cell phone beep from the next room. Absorbed in the Wedding Crashers (I have a girl crush on Isla Fisher) and Yoga Journal (I'm a hippy), I ignored, and then forgot about it. A while later I remembered, so I went to check it out.

It was a message from my new roommate C, telling me that she and one of our other roommates E were going to a pub in Cleveland Park and would I like to join them? I've been house-sitting for D, so going to Cleveland Park would have involved more than the typical production of dressing and walking three-quarters of a mile. It  would have meant dressing and getting on the metro. Still not a big deal, but not how I wanted to spend the next 30+ minutes of my life, especially in light of my revelations regarding the bar scene in DC.

I declined their invitation.

While I understand that plans these days more often than not arise spontaneously and that if one wishes to maintain an active social life, one must be open to the possibilities of flexible planning, it still made me long for a different time when people planned ahead. In this case, even a matter of several hours would have made a big difference. Had the text come in at 4:00 or even 5:00, I would have grabbed a coffee for fortification, and would set my sights on rallying for the night ahead.

But in my new life as an old fuddy-duddy, those 4+ hours made a huge difference--between unwinding and psyching myself up for a night on the town. And the fact is, I was *happy* with Wedding Crashers and the Yoga Journal. I was looking forward to going to the Dupont Farmer's Market the next morning not all hungover and strung out. I was looking forward to the 20 minutes of restorative yoga and meditation I would do before bed. I very much *wanted* to watch Weekend Update on SNL. I was proud of the fact that I had found alternative Saturday night activities and that I was taking part in them on my own terms, and without feeling like a loser or a hermit.

And yet, I didn't want to isolate myself from the rest of the house and to miss out on bonding opportunities.

Le sigh.

It happens all the time, thanks to our oh-so-friendly cell phones, Blackberries, and IMs. I suppose I just wish that people would realize that even though they *can* make plans at the last minute, it doesn't mean that they necessarily *should*.

In other news...

Since I am in-between employment engagements, the thought of career change is very much on my mind. Much like a young child with ADD, almost every day a new career comes across my path that looks intriguing and exciting (ballerina! fire fighter! veterinarian!) Here is my latest career-that-looks-cool-probably-because-It's-not-mine: Professional Mediator/Alternative Resolution Adviser.

My propensity to daydream of a better life in a career that is not mine reminds me of that passage in High Fidelity where Laura finds Rob's list of Top 5 Dream Jobs and they all consist of slightly ludicrous ones that he'd never accomplish, especially because many of them took place in the past. It's a form of escapism.

But escapism aside, I think I'd make an excellent mediator.

These People Lost Everything Daddy, Don't You Think That Includes Athletic Equipment? (Formerly Sartorial Slip-Ups)

*Entry deleted due to mind-numbing boringness* I'll think of something better later.

Yuppie Shake Down

The practice of yoga dates back between 4,000 and 8,000 years from the present day, depending on who you ask.   The practice of yoga is intended to improve the body's physical health and to clear the mind in preparation for meditation in the pursuit of enlightenment.

These days, it's something that many people $18 an hour to do in a crowded, cramped studio, wearing $65 dollar pants made especially for the occasion. It's a state of affairs that I feel deeply ambivalent about.

While on the one hand, I respect the fact that urban yoga studios are expensive to run, and I don't neccessarily begrudge anyone's right to sartorial fabulousness, I very much resent the rarified cache that yoga has taken on in recent years.

Amid all of it's talk about eco-consciousness and mindful living, popular yoga has morphed into a semi-exclusive club that one must pay a considerable price to get into. And while of course one can practice yoga at home on one's own, it often helps to have an instructor to guide and remind you of proper alignment.

I've complained on this blog before of a certain DC yoga studio that charges a pretty penny for classes, uses slick marketing to sell its services and crowds students into its studio all for the apparent sake of generating more revenue in order to create more slick marketing campaigns. All that for a watered-down form of yoga with little attention to proper alignment or form. Said studio is also in the process of relocating to a new location where they will offer spa services and elixers from a tea bar.

On their own, the components of this plan sound fine. I love yoga and tea in equal measures. But throw them together under the banner of a froufy package of commidified lifestyle choices and my blood begins to boil. There's something so upper-middle class about the whole affair. I very much doubt that the ancient Vedics would have approved.

Last week however, I discovered a compelling alternative. A place that offers classes at just $10 a pop; features a beautiful, airy studio; and very much walks-the-walk when it comes to promoting eco-consciousness. While the quality of instruction pales in comparison to Unity Woods, where most of the instructors have at least 10 years of instruction experience under their belts, it was nonetheless passable, and the instructors themselves are very friendly and welcoming. Needless to say, I've found my own tranquil space in DC, and I intend to return many, many times.

In other news, I'm feeling a little dismayed today by my universe of options for social activities. In recent weeks I have made a deliberate decision to curtail my intake of alcohol. I'm starting to hate the way it makes me feel, the amount of money it drains from my already paltry checking account, and the empty calories it packs onto my waistline. I barely drink at all these days, and while my mind and skin are considerably clearer as a result, so is my social calendar. I'm not saying that there's nothing to do at night in this down but drink, but I do feel like that's all anyone around me ever feels like doing.

I loathe the bar scene in this town. It's crowded and over-priced and many of the cooler establishments are best accessed by taxi. And since I am already really tired of being the person to round up the troops for a night of fun, I have found myself hibernating against my will. I suppose I'm just a bit lonely and in need of a solid social circle. I see a few options for combating this, like volunteering, which I am gradually getting into through various outlets.

I just find the whole process of getting out of my own head and into the outside world to be a challenge. I spend so much time alone (even when I do venture out in the world these days for my weekday adventures) that it's hard for me to climb out of my own head when the occasion calls for it. It's sort of an introvert's inertia, I guess. Most of the time it's just easier for me to do my own thing at home (or at D's home, where I write this from as he is out of town for three weeks on business and I am apartment-sitting) than to bother with plan-making.

I wish there was some sort of cure for intense introversion.

But Could I Write About Strippers?

Having brazenly proclaimed myself a freelance writer several weeks ago, it kind of makes sense that I should um, start pursuing some opportunities of such a nature.

So this morning when I found a listing looking for writers to report on cultural and "nightlife" venues around the city, I jumped on it. Disregarding the part of the listing where they specifically asked for *experienced* freelancers, I attempted to make my case of what a fantabulous nightlife reporter I'd be. Basically, I told them that I've written professionally for seven years on a "variety of issues" and that I know the bars of DC like the back of my hand (only I used a much better analogy than that, but I'm keeping it to myself for now because who knows what powers-that-be could be reading this). My logic was something along the lines of experienced writer+seasoned partygirl=BEST NIGHTLIFE REPORTER EVER! Because really, isn't it only fair the my long history of bar-flying should amount to something besides a fractured relationship with an area bartender, several missing ATM cards and thousands hundreds of dollars down the drain?

I think so too.

So with that in mind, I wrote up a cover letter as best I could and explained my desire to transition from political/non-profit writing to entertainment journalist extraordinaire. I included some of my cheekier writing samples from past places of employment, as well as my resume, and crossed my fingers as I hit "send." Now at the mercy, of un-named internet publication, I will now continue to sit around watching Soapnet apply for other jobs and wait to see what comes back to me.

Cross your fingers for me. This is one brave new world.