When Kleptomania Goes Too Far

It's sad times around the Bionic household. Baby didn't get pregnant this time, and I'm having the worst work week of the year. We've been reduced to only telling each other slightly comic anecdotes, for fear of setting the other off weeping. For instance, a woman behind me in the bookstore on Friday said to her friend, "I don't like Dickens, he uses too much language." That got a wan smile out of Baby.

On my walk to my run (I know, but I like to run around the pretty park rather than jiggle past our questionable, corner-standing neighbors) I overheard a rather longer story between two young hipsterish women who were walking behind me:

woman 1: "You know, she needs to understand that it's not OK to be that way all the time, once in awhile is fine, but not three nights a week."

woman 2: "Yeah."

woman 1: "I mean, if you wake up the next morning and are told that you were found passed out on the bathroom floor with some guy's pants and you have no idea how that happened, I mean . . ."

woman 1: "Yeah."

Some guy's pants? All the time? She's a serial pants stealer? There's more story here people, I know it! Sadly, they just went on to discuss how she was resistant to talking about her 'problem' with them. Boring.

what pants?

So I'm waiting, New York. Do some more funny stuff, stat! We need material!

You Know What Else They Sell At the Grand Central Rite Aid?

Sanitary Napkins.

CD 1, y'all.

What We're Weeping Over, Sunday Edition

Have you already watched this? I'd seen it pop up on friends' Facebook pages, but hadn't taken the 4 minutes to watch it for myself until today. It's from testimony in Maine concerning marriage equality.



"What do you think our boys fought for at Omaha Beach?"

For me? You fought for me? Oh, man, I'm tearing up all over again.

The old folks are all right.

Book Fair Betrayal

If you're as nerdy as I am, perhaps you remember with a similar fondness the Scholastic Book Fair. Ours was around this time of year, as I recall. Parent volunteers would set up table after table after table of books in the GYM -- double-bonus, since that usually meant no dodgeball for at least one day. My mother could usually be convinced to take me to the fair after school (massive understatement -- apples don't fall far from trees, and the woman is OBSESSED with books), but even if your parents weren't the sort who understood why you HAD TO HAVE that shiny copy of The Boxcar Children or Sideways Stories from Wayside School or Harriet the Spy -- a new copy, of your very own, a perfect rectangle that you would be the first to peel open -- the school would lean on them to send you with a little spending money for the day your class went to the fair. (Triple-bonus: book fair, no gym, and less time in class.)

Scholastic makes money hand over fist at these things (and gives less back to the host school than they used to), as one would expect with a captive and coerced audience, but it's hard to begrudge them a little profit for something as all-around good as the book fair.

Which is why it made me so sad to read this:

You have to wonder why an organization dedicated to getting students to read would decide to make censorship such an important part of their work. You also have to wonder why one of the leading organizations dedicated to helping students learn would decide to wallop a giant blow of discrimination toward gay and lesbian families and children of same-sex parents.

But that's what Scholastic Books is doing by banning a book from its book fairs simply for the fact that the book contains a girl character who has two lesbian moms. The book in question is Lauren Myracle's book Luv Ya Bunches, a new book that wittingly covers the trials, tribulations and friendships that a group of young girls go through in school.

Teh Gay Agenda?

And yes, the book is definitely, no question about it, being censored because it dares to suggest that not all children grow up in heterosexual households. Scholastic is up front about that:

The company sent a letter to Myracle's editor asking the author to omit certain words such as "geez," "crap," "sucks," and "God" (as in, "oh my God") and to alter its plotline to include a heterosexual couple. Myracle agreed to get rid of the offensive language "with the goal—as always—of making the book as available to as many readers as possible," but the deal breaker was changing Milla's two moms.

"A child having same-sex parents is not offensive, in my mind, and shouldn't be 'cleaned up.'" says Myracle, adding that the book fair subsequently decided not to take on Luv Ya Bunches because they wanted to avoid letters of complaint from parents. "I find that appalling. I understand why they would want to avoid complaint letters—no one likes getting hated on—but shouldn't they be willing to evaluate the quality of the complaint? What, exactly, are children being protected against here?"

And here's where I get all misty (am I pregnant or just PMSing???) and fall in love with Myracle a little bit:

“Over 200,000 kids in America are raised by same-sex parents, just like Milla. It's not an issue to clean up or hide away,” says Myracle. “In my opinion, it's not an 'issue' at all. The issue, as I see it, is that kids benefit hugely from seeing themselves reflected positively in the books they read. It's an extremely empowering and validating experience."

So here's what we need to do:

1. Sign this petition at Change.org

2. Especially if you're a parent whose kids will have a book fair (or who just love Scholastic Books), let Scholastic know why appeasing a few testy weirdos who hate everyone who isn't just like them is a bad business decision.

Investor Relations
Strategic Development
(212) 343-6741
investor_relations@scholastic.com


(Thanks to Mombian, Change.org, and The School Library Journal for writing most of this post.)


(Also: If, like me, you're wondering whether or not I have been knocked up, I feel I should let you know that I'm up at 5am on a Sunday not to begin walking across the fields to church but because I've been throwing up much of the night. Gross. I sure as hell better be pregnant.)

Signs Of The Times 2

Train schedules. They might also know if I am pregnant.

Not the ones online, only the big framed ones at the station. Definitely not the printed pocket schedules -- I'm not crazy.

This time...It's Personal

Here's something I learned during my month away from the blog: the Rite Aid at Grand Central does indeed sell OPKs, and cheaper than my local Duane Reade.

I learned this on Day Infinity of peeing-on-sticks (CD Infinity + 13). I had run out on the day before and assumed there would be none at the GCT store, a strange warren with much more in the way of Pringles than of anything drug-like. I catch the 7:12 train from GCT in the mornings, and even at that hour, a line of dazed people grasping Powerade and Funyuns clots in the hair-care aisle. The last thing I bought there was Scotch Tape in a donut-shaped dispenser.

So on CD (Infinity - 1)+13, when I realized it was time to traipse merrily along to the meeting of my Community Garden Governing Board (how I got suckered into that one is another story), I instead ran in the opposite direction, waited in line 4-EVAH at Duane Reade, and arrived late at the meeting, panting and with open wounds on my feet from flip-flops that aren't made for speed. That night I opened the box and made sure to leave one test out on the table, so I wouldn't forget to take it with me to school, where there are no drugstores for miles.

I'm sure you know where this is going. Yadda-yadda happy ending, although the message on the receipt still strikes me as slightly creepy.

Rite Aid is even more excited about peeing on sticks than I am!!
RA OVULATION PREDICTOR!! RA! RA!

The test was negative, of course.

Signs Of The Times

• I've realized I'm repeatedly refreshing my email because I'm waiting to find out whether I'm pregnant.

You've Got UteMail!

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