Friday, October 17, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Monday, April 28, 2008
Join by Mother’s Day to send a powerful message about fair pay for women in the workplace!
Lilly Ledbetter worked for Goodyear for over 20 years, and only upon retirement was she informed that she had consistently made significantly less than every man in the same position for her entire career. She was significantly less than the lowest paid male in a similar position.
Goodyear Tire Co refused to settle the case for a measly $60,000, the difference between Ledbetter’s pay and the lowest paid male worker in the same position. A jury awarded Ledbetter damages of $223,776 in back pay and over $3 million in punitive damages, but Goodyear Tire Co still didn’t want to pay. They took it to Supreme Court and won (right after Bush’s appointees were placed) because the judge claimed Ledbetter should have filed her claim within 180 days of her first paycheck. The court ignored the fact that Ledbetter had no way of knowing of the disparity until someone sent her an anonymous letter after she retired.
This is unacceptable behavior and an unacceptable ruling. Consumers can’t always affect public policy swiftly, but choosing where and when to spend our dollars is a powerful way to change corporate policy, and by domino effect, public policy and the very landscape of our culture. Women fought hard against public policy and laws to earn certain rights and freedoms. Corporations still do not honor these rights. So we must take action directly against the bottom line of corporations that decide to behave irresponsibly and think they can power there way through the court systems.
Do not let Goodyear Tire Co get away with unfair pay practices. Join the Goodyear Tire Co boycott today. Spread the word on your blogs, through email, and by word of mouth. Create a buzz and let’s together reach and surpass the goal of 10,000 people to boycott Goodyear Tire Co. until they correct their pay practices, and settle with Lilly Ledbetter.
Though 10,000 boycotters may be only a drop in the bottom line of a large corporation like Goodyear Tire Co, it will still send a powerful message. The goal is 10,000 to begin the boycott, but we can do much better than than, and we can specify a clear amount of time. In addition, we can create a powerful social media buzz that will be found in the search engines for years to come.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
So here it is:
Ok, I've had it. I can't take it anymore. Parenting and pregnancy are NOT fucking handicaps! I know this because I have given birth to 3 boys, so I have been pregnant and I am a parent, so I get to speak from experience here. It is not a handicap. Period.
I'll qualify my frustration.
Back in the day, there were a few reserved parking spots for disabled ~ aka handicapped (or to be more PC about it, handy-capable) ~ people. That is to say, people with physical limitations. These spots save said disabled from having to travel farther to the mall etc., so they would have more energy to move about the mall etc., once inside. Ok fine, but lets be honest here...usually people traveling with disabilities are accompanied by some device that enables them to travel freely; oft times, the device has wheels.
Fair enough, you have a disability, I defer. Happily, 'cause I'm actually a nice person deep down, and karma is serious business.
These days, when I travel to my nearest shopping destination, I find that I am relegated to the very back of the lot. This is because I have the audacity to be young, healthy and without child! Today, when I pull into the lot it starts with the whole front reserved for those with handicap stickers, next are about 12 spots for seniors, then come the 'with child' ~ aka pregnant spots, and last but certainly not least, and still in prime position to make it to the doors faster than most, are parent with children parking spots. WHAT??!!!
I'm not even going to start with the pregnant parking, other than to say that pregnant women are able to take aerobic classes right up 'till they give birth. I have a friend who just gave birth last week; she went to kickboxing class twice a week until a few weeks before baby. Pregnancy is not a disability. However, I will defer to your decision to birth a child and give you preferential treatment, 'cause I'm nice. I'm bitter, but I'm still nice.
However, I have officially drawn the line and I will dammit, park in the parent with children spot. I am a parent, so fuck you. AND even if I wasn't, parenting is not a bloody handicap. Most children are certainly well enough to walk on their own, and babies travel in strollers. WTF???? If you're that unhealthy that you can't walk the extra 20 feet to the store, then perhaps you should be home in bed. Or in palliative care maybe?
I have no problem parking a mile from the store really. I always take the stairs. I'm healthy and active. It's the principal of the thing. Enough already!
Your choice to have children is not my problem. I didn't ask for special parking or get handouts because I chose to have babies, and I sure as hell don't need to be responsible for your choice to have babies.
I'm glad I got that one off my chest!
Saturday, January 5, 2008
So yesterday I got back from visiting the folks. The flights were fine, no major delays. I got to the airport here and the bags took a long time to come out, but no big deal. Here is where the fun begins. I get to the parking lot and I have to wander around for a bit because I can't remember where I put the car, but I find it after a few minutes. And the battery is dead. As it always is when the car has been sitting outside overnight, because my battery is a piece of shit, but I refuse to replace it because it's less than a year old. Also the doors are unlocked, which is maybe battery related? But I guess no one is going to steal a car with a dead battery, and have to pay to get it out of the airport parking lot. So I walk back to the parking shelter to call the parking people to jump my battery, nearly busting my ass slipping on an icy patch of the way and crashing into someone's car. I call and the cranky parking lady tells me it will be "a while" because there are several people in line ahead of me. I go back to the car to wait. It is very cold, though I don't know how cold because I have to turn on the car to see my handy thermometer thingy. I wait and wait and talk on the phone and wait some more. 45 minutes pass. I go back to the shelter and call the cranky lady, who claims that the battery guy has been there and I wasn't there. Where would I have gone? I describe where I am again. She and the battery guy argue back and forth about whether she told him the wrong place or he went to the wrong place. I go back to the car. The battery guy comes and is nice and jumps the battery, so I am now able to look at the thermometer and see that it is 10 degrees F. I had no hat because I was coming from a warmer climate and didn't plan on being outside for an hour when I got back. So I drive home, with my stocking feet pressed up against the heater vent (not a safe way to drive, I know, but I made it). I am so excited to get home. There is snow on the driveway, but it doesn't look that deep, so I start driving up. Halfway up the driveway, the car gets stuck. Have I mentioned that by now it is 8:30 pm and I have not had dinner? I am very cranky. The car is in the driveway, so it wouldn't be a problem except that, as we know, the battery dies if left outside. I have this nifty battery warmer thing (also called a trickle charger, which sounds dirty/disgusting), but it has to be plugged in, so there's a problem. So I go inside and call my boyfriend to see if he has any ideas. His ideas: digging the car out, getting an extension cord to connect the warmer, or washing the snow off the driveway with the hose. I'm pretty sure that the hose thing is a terrible idea, so I disregard that one. Does he know where an extension cord is? No. He knows where one is at his house, and he's not sure whether there's one at my house or not. I look around and can't find one. That leaves digging the car out. I have a snow shovel, but I have never actually used it. So I start shoveling. It is now 9 pm. You can see my house from the main road. I look like an idiot. I finish shoveling and try to drive the car into the garage. Still stuck, and now making an unpleasant burning smell. I call the boyfriend again and whine. He makes some more suggestions. I shovel some more, then back the car up and try again. And it finally works! I go inside and eat a Lean Cuisine and a bunch of caramel popcorn. Then this morning I hit the trash can with the car.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Uhm, so maybe your husband is a stark raving insane heroin addict. Maybe you've been kind of broke and depressed, and you're not able to make it to the eyebrow lady like you used to. Well, have I got a solution for you! These eyebrow razors are a-fucking-mazing. You get salon-perfect precision on a junky's wife budget.