An open letter to the Minister of Transportation

Baron Rothchild, ridin' dirty, in the early 20th century.

There comes a time in every young woman's life when she realizes that the human race has not taken adequate advantage of the zebra as a method of transportation. It's just part of growing up.

ZEBRAS VS. CARS

I am not what one would call "car savvy." When I bought my current car, I essentially walked onto the lot and demanded the option with the most cup-holders. Unfortunately, this also happened to be a car that was so old it didn't even have a tape-deck, but being the cunning haggler I am, I'd already thrown all my cash on the counter, screaming "Money is no object!" so there was no turning back. 

Some might argue that domesticating a wild animal that weighs hundreds of pounds in a foreign climate would be way more effort than maintaining a low-mileage sedan, but at least you'd get something out of your work: FRIENDSHIP. When I wash my car annually, it doesn't nuzzle me or gently pluck a sugar cube out of my hand or whinny "Neeiiigh! I ruvvv youuu!"; it's only reaction is to continue looking dirty because my sponging technique is not really effective in removing 52 weeks of build-up or certain fence-related bumper damage. I'm also pretty sure if you're going 140km/h on a zebra there are no legal repercussions, unlike certain Chevy Cavaliers I could name.

ZEBRAS VS. HORSES

The internet, which has has no reason to lie to me, claims that zebras have crazy stamina, night vision, and are more resistant than horses to African diseases. And obviously, if you're looking at style-factor, zebras take it. (Fun fact: Zebras are actually black with white stripes. Shocked? Racist.) Most importantly, a group of zebras is called a harem -- just like the groups of sexy, enslaved ladies that all my Arabian prince friends are always going on and on about! Think of how impressive and manly you would sound, casually dropping this into every day conversation: "I must tend to my harem," "Looks like I have to de-hoof my harem," "I can't go out tonight, I have to muck out the harem stall," etc. Comparatively, what are horses calling themselves these days? "Herds?" More like NERDS. Hit the glue factory, jerks, we're done here.

ZEBRAS VS. BIKES

Nobody is going to steal your zebra if it's locked up outside a coffee shop. 

IN SUM

In conclusion, if a zebra does not seem to you after this stunning argument to be the transportation of tomorrow, perhaps you will consider these (very real!) alternatives: zebroids, zeedonks, zonies, or zorses.

I leave you with a photo of an albino zebra, which is sure to haunt you, but would undoubtledy get excellent gas mileage.

Sedentary creatures

What's going on with me these days? A lot of sitting. So much sitting. Work related sitting, but still -- getting a paycheque does not negate the laziness of the situation. It's not even stressful multi-tasking, clocking-hours-for-the-big-Johnson-account kind of sitting, which would at least get the ol' heart rate up; it's more in the we-need-a-human-being-to-answer-the-five-phone-calls-we-get-a-day vein of things. I am quite concerned that my bottom (excuse my French!) is getting flatter by the day.

I can feel my muscles getting softer even as I type this.

I heard something on the radio this morning about workplace rights for the obese. "Bring a doctor's note if you need a non-standard sized chair!" suggested the guest cheerily and presumably fat-ly. "Employers, be ready to provide XXL uniform sizes to your workers to make everyone more comfortable."

Because my "to do" inbox literally contains a box of chocolate (and only a box of chocolate), I'm a little concerned about this sedentary lifestyle I'm practicing. So, naturally, instead of "running after work" or "joining a gym" or "not eating that second layer of truffles", I spent the morning surfing the internet (kind of a sport?) to see if there's anything I can do at my desk to keep in some sort of shape. Because I am lazy in both body and spirit these days, I didn't actually read the articles per se, but found the images helpful for gleaning fitness info. Like they say, why buy the cow if a picture is worth a thousand words?


LESSONS IN HEALTH

The most important part of building muscle is flexible wrists. How will you dead-lift weights in your cubicle if your joints aren't supple? The second most important part is looking like you're not getting any enjoyment from this whatsoever.

 

The good folks at AskMen.com -- presumably advised by StayFitAnywhere Corp., who value fitness over ergonomic chairs -- know that looking sporty is just as important as being sporty. After all, clothes make the man! Shorts may not be business-casual, but tear-aways certainly are. 

 

If you have $500 and a treadmill just lying around, you're ready to go because TrekDesks are a thing that exists. This guy even walked (virtually) across America on his. This is at once saddening and awe-inspiring.

 

Girls, girls, girls

Even in the year 2011, a time when some women have actually figured out how to pee standing up, being a lady isn't always easy. I am lucky enough to live in a part of the world where policemen are called police officers, and nobody can trade me for a handsome dowry (if they did though, you'd bet it would be HUGE);  the babes of North America, however, have impressively managed to develop their own set of femme issues to cry about anyways. The Media, right? What is its PROBLEM?

Because I personally have an abnormally high level of self-confidence rooted mostly in a delightful combination of narcissism and being too lazy to care, I've cheerfully avoided thinking too deeply about celebrities and their diet tips, but I understand from high school speech meets that Television, Air-Brushing et al have contributed greatly to a national body image crisis. "Ladies, gentlemen, esteemed judges," passionate teens will cry, wringing their pastel flashcards and hoping nothing is caught in their braces. "We'll never compare to these Hollywood starlets! Plastic surgery! Did you know blah blah fact about Barbie's proportions blah blah! In conclusion, something something bulimia!!!"

To me, the heavy-handed editing of hotness is less depressing than the idea that young women are consuming it without criticism (or are portrayed as doing so, anyways). But whomever's fault it is -- the impressors or the impressees -- there's a positive trend going down these days that will hopefully simultaneously inspire confidence in girls and put an end to shitty sentimental speeches about beauty. The current champions of the pop charts are women who value artistic flair over looking pretty. Lady Gaga, Katy Perry, Ke$ha, Rihanna, and Nicki Manaj: It is an arms race of weirdness. They're wearing meat and decorating their eyebrows with punk rock hardware; they're doing their hair like drag queens. They're being so vulgar (via tit-fireworks, sexploitation prison videos) that it trades sex appeal for spectacle. Even if the shock is all for attention, though, I think this growing pool of freakshow pop icons may mark an important change for the kids today. These women are celebrated for their independent spirits (or fashion choices, whatever), and this can only be an improvement for girls looking for role models than the idolization of cookie-cutter silicone. Is glow-in-the-dark facepaint really the mark of an artist? Probably not. But at least looking interesting is a step towards being interesting. And if young ladies can't help but absorb media images like angry adolescent sponges, these poster girls for overboard individuation are probably as empowering as it's going to get.

 

Brilliant invention 2: Massage sweater

Who loves massages? Trick question: everybody. Massage chairs and masseuses and those neck vibrator things were all invented for a reason. People want to be rubbed all the time.

I am very smart and managed to trick a cat owner into dating me. Cat owners are well practiced in the art of heavy (non-sexual! Hopefully!) petting, and as a result, Jordan will rub pretty much any limb I thrust in front of him, half-distracted and with impressive stamina as long as there is a hockey game on. He is a machine and it is the best.

Unfortunately, it would not be appropriate to bring him along to work to rub my back all day while I'm hunched over the computer, rigorously refreshing my Twitter feed, so I have come up with an alternative solution that will hopefully also make me a millionaire: a massage sweater! It would have little vibrating, pulsating pods lining the inside, releasing muscle tension while you go about your business. Maybe if this takes off, we could offer a t-shirt version for warmer months or some sort of formalwear line, for special occasional that also might cause pinched nerves.

Jordan, helpful as he always is in crushing my entrepreneurial spirit, has suggested that the battery power to produce constant vibrating over a several square foot area would be either short lived or completely unattainable, or in the very best case scenario, debilitatingly heavy. But I feel that our old friend (and fellow inventor) Benjamin Franklin has already discovered the solution: electricity! The kind that comes in the walls! And walls are everywhere, right? Convenient! We'll just strap on a discrete extension cord to the ensemble, and suddenly we have a massage sweater perfectly suited for a young go-getter and their crippling tension.  

Think about it: you show up at work on Monday, back aching because you are a 23 year old who has been prescribed custom orthodics but spent the weekend refusing to wear sensible shoes. Hitting the spa is certainly not an option, so just toss on your oddly lumpy cardigan, plug it in, and enjoy as the soothing electromagnetic pulses take your pain away, with no one the wiser, as long as you stay within three feet of an electrical outlet.

Jordan's other critique was that your muscles would get used to the sweet, sweet massaging action, rendering it ineffective over time. So what about some sort of random algorithim: a massage surprise, powering up and sneaking up on you at varying points throughout the day? Wouldn't that be nice? You're in a boring meeting, half asleep, when blammo! Suddenly  you are vibrating in your chair, jolting your muscles into submission, and everyone is looking at you being like "Where can I purchase one of these fashionable-yet-practical sweaters?" and offering you cash sums of up to $300 to buy it off you, right then and there.

If you are an investor who also happens to be an electrician, get in touch! I have some cardigans we can use as prototypes.