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Whole30 Day 23 : Scores Of Women

8:30 a.m.

You might be wondering what I’m doing up so early. Well, Alexis has to work. Which is a bummer because she really wanted to go to the Women’s March downtown. So I am going in her place. Also, someone needs to protect these people that have probably never thrown a punch in their life.

We both slept well last night. I had deep sleep with no disturbing dreams. It wasn’t until 4 a.m. when Woody woke me up with his plea to join the bed.

9:32 a.m.

One Man’s Journey Into A Sea Of Protesting Women

Most notable thing so far on my commute down has been the girl behind me that keeps retaking her protest selfie every time we stop at a light. It’s like, everything’s normal, what a great day! I’m looking at the sun, put on my blinker, I don’t like this song, I need gas again, what are the prices anyway? Did they ever resolve things in Iraq? Then BAM, red light fucking game face. She pulls out her phone, initiates 32 degree head tilt, finds the light for a twinkle in her eye, sucks in the cheeks, turns the corners of her mouth up, and pulls the trigger. Like a gd assassin.

9:45 a.m.

Okay, I’ve just parked. Already there is a guy who was passed up for the main role in Jersey Shore calling the old man in the car behind him a “faggot.” I pull out my camera and walk towards him to record and, of course, he drives away. I didn’t get a chance to tell him the tanning salon was one block up. If this is any indication of how the day is going to go then I’m glad I brought my riot gear.

10:07 a.m

There are a lot of people at this protest. I was expecting one, maybe two hundred tops. This is San Diego we’re talking about. Someone runs you over with their car and the first thing you say is, “No worries, bro.” But it’s packed. My guess is 30,000 people here already.

I’m taking one walk through the crowd to see if I can spot anything of interest. Mostly notably, this cool young girl.

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And then there were the (presumably) Native women.

I’m not exactly sure their angle this morning. Don’t get me wrong, they can pretty much protest for all of eternity and they’d have my support. But they aren’t holding any signs or saying anything. Just playing the drums. Sometimes I think there is one over-zealous organizer in the protest groups that always tries to jump into the planning with one great idea.

Group Leader: “We need to make sure we announce our local representatives for being here.”

Barb: “Okay, then we roll out the Natives?”

Group Leader: “No Barb, not yet. Then we have to establish our credibility as an organiz….”

Barb: “And then we hit em with the Natives!!!”

Group Leader’s Assistant: “Barb, please.”

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Whatever their message, they are getting the loudest cheers.

10:25 a.m.

Too many people here for my taste. Need to find a better vantage point.

10:35 a.m.

I’m on the roof of the U.S. Grant’s parking garage. Just me and a line cook smoking a cig. I walked up the windy ramp, past quite a few employees, without a single question. If I was planning on ruining this whole event by being a terrorist it would have been that easy.

The view up here is much better.

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10:47 a.m.

They are singing the national anthem and for some reason it is hitting me quite hard. I’m not Mr. Protest by any means, I’m not even sure I believe in their effectiveness, but as Alexis said last night, “A lot of people are lost and hurt and they just want to be around other people who feel the same way,” – and it feels particularly true right this moment. Effective or not, people are together and that’s always worth celebrating.

10:50 a.m.

Annnnnnnddddddd, there’s the drugged out hippie chick with the cardboard box sign screaming fuck this and fuck the man without any regard to the rest of the peaceful, intelligent, and coherent protestors. Wouldn’t have been an event without her.

10:55 a.m.

Have to stop to take an artsy shot of protestors with the flag in the foreground to indicate a deep sense of semi-confusing irony while also providing a sliver of hope for the future.

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11:05 a.m.

I’ve moved to the front line. They are going to start marching soon. I’m not marching. Too many folks. Just going to watch from the side and hope nobody gets blown up.

The End.

12:10 p.m.

The gd salmon is taking forever.

12:20 p.m.

Oh, that’s because it was frozen.

1:55 p.m.

Thawing now for Alexis’ lunch. She gets off work in five minutes and it’s my goal to have lunch prepared for her, mostly in response to a lot of the comments I read online today regarding women exercising their right to peacefully protest:

“I wouldn’t want to be married to any of them. They wouldn’t listen to a damn thing you told em.”

“Who’s gonna make all the sandwiches today?”

“Which one is the butch?”

And so on.

And so on.

Just when you think there is hope for the future.

Sandwiches are good though.

2:20 p.m.

The good news is – lunch was a hit. I proved my worth in this household finally.

Let’s build the scene.

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At first it was just simple spring mix. A single mother of three beautiful daughters all with the same exact eyebrows.

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And then the roasted veggies – Sprouts, B and carrots. Childhood friends that have just gotten back together for lunch after many years and realized that they have opposing political views and will never talk to each other again.

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Y el salmon to cap it off. Some olive oil and sea salt and that my friends is how we do lunch.

4:18 p.m.

We just bought tickets to go see Silence this evening at 6:00 p.m. No popcorn movies hasn’t happened since Day 1 when we saw Kill Yourself by the Sea with Casey Affleck (which Alexis will eye roll at me for pronouncing his last name like the insurance company). I’m tone deaf and don’t appreciate the ridicule.

Surely we will eat dinner before we head out. I am really nervous to be around so much popcorn. I feel depressed lately and I want snacks NOW!

What is the guiding force once the novelty has worn off?

5:03 p.m.

Dinner is just minutes away. We are going for a repeat of the famous Dim Sum dumplings from Goop.

“It’s 5:03 p.m. The movie is at 6. We need to leave at 5:30. How are we doing timeline wise?”

“On time.”

5:22 p.m.

Oh I don’t know. It’s looking tight. I’ll take the dog for a walk.

5:37 p.m.

Still no dinner.

“How we looking?”

“Great.”

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Little dumpers with butternut squizzler. With our homemade “salty AF” sauce.

5:40 p.m.

Can we talk about how having a printer at home is the single greatest benefit of being an adult in the entire world? That’s when you know you’ve made it. Also, if you have backup ink cartridges in the drawer underneath. #notthereyet

5:45 p.m.

How am I still typing you ask? Because we are still home.

It seems that two people can have entirely different views on what the phrase, “I’m ready” actually means.

9:17 p.m.

We saw a movie but I’m too hungry to remember what it was about. Oh the popcorn everywhere. I can’t go to the movies again without a gas mask. Or at least some taro chips. This is an unfair way to experience life. Even though movie theater popcorn makes my head literally ache I don’t see how I can just turn my back on someone I’ve known my entire life. Where is the loyalty?

As for Silence, it was really really strange and the first 85% almost seemed like it was intentionally bad and then, all of the sudden, it was really good. And then it was over. Kind of like Whole30.

I’ll get to how much we spent last week tomorrow. I can’t do the math. I need to find some turkey.

Goodnight people.

 

Ready Day 22 HERE.

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