DOON THOUGHTS

I just got home from seeing Denis Villeneuve's Dune and wrote out the following 13 points rather than blowing up the group chats because I am not a monster. I am, however, someone who lists out 13 points of discussion after seeing the space worm movie. Anyway. Desert power to you and yours. 

DOON THOUGHTS 

1. That was criminally excellent and also hard to believe it took this long to get it right. 

2. Extremely pleased that they removed the icky pedophilia stuff from the Baron narrative. We’ll work on the fatphobia but it’s a STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION. 

3. I was always confused about this and they probably address it later but who’s house sitting Caladan during all this, is there like a Cousin Bob Atreides who’s gonna sublet the castle into multi-family units, I have questions. [editor's note: ok I understand that the book establishes Count Fenring as the housesitter but the movie does not make this clear AT ALL and I would just like to think of Imaginary Cousin Bob just King Ralphing it with his bros while all the shit goes down on Arrakis, let me live]

Meanwhile, on Caladan...

4. OMG THROPTERS. GR8 WORK, THERE. 

5. Oscar nomination for the graphic designer who stylized the Atreides crest alone, that shit is dope, I want it on my hand towels. 

6. Thufir Hawat deftly demonstrating the practicality of a good parasol while smashing gender norms, u luv 2 see it. 

7. Missed the banquet scene but did not miss the whole thing about eating rabbit tongues. Had to hug Miss Bossy a little after reading that. 

8. They do zip through some of the prophecy stuff and the Tahaddi Challenge so I can see where some folks who haven’t read the books might be a little lost, but otherwise it’s astoundingly accessible (also autocorrect changed “Tahaddi Challenge” to “Tabasco Challenge” which would have been a lot more fun and less traumatizing for everyone tbh) 

9. BUNNY RAT 💚 

10. Lol at Denis Villeneuve looking at Sting’s whole character as played in the Lynch movie and being like “nah, let's save that for later.” I know he'll show up later because LITERARY CANON, but that’s a boss move considering this is what a lot of people think of, if they think of Dune: 

"Nah."

'

11. When they first descended on the spice harvester I definitely said under my breath “yeah gurrrrrl worm time.” Also could not see the worms without thinking of the Forbidden Butthole tweet, but I think that only enriched my experience. 

12. Also definitely said aloud “aw man fuck these guys” when the Sardaukar dropped into the ecological center because seriously fuck those guys. 

13. Would absolutely see again on biggest screen possible, 10 cups of spit coffee out of 10.

Leggo My Eggos

I guess I should tell you about my weird pandemic hobby that I picked up.

It started in October, when I went to see a new GYN, who asked if ever had an AMH test done. That would be Anti-Müllerian hormone, and it tells you how many eggs you have on hand. My previous doctor had never suggested one, and since such matters weren't necessarily a priority for me at the time, I didn't even know that such a thing existed. But being a fan of self-awareness and science, I said sure.

About a week later I was getting ready to go to a members event at MoMA, and was just about to go down the escalator to the Q train when I got a call from the doc. It was a holiday, so I thought that was unusual, so I took the call. And the AMH results were not great. Like very not great. Like when I looked up my results later on a chart there was "Normal," "Low," "Very Low," and what amounts to "Women and Children to the Lifeboats Immediately." I was solidly in that last group.

I never DIDN'T want kids. I just never wanted to be a single parent. I still don't know that I want to be. But while I excel at a great many things, I still haven't quite cracked the absolute alchemy of finding someone halfway decent to like you back as much as you like them to want to sign on for such an assignment, and vice versa. I'm still working that out. And it wasn't all that pressing of an issue. Until it was. I was given the option of taking immediate action to even leave the possibility of having kids open -- or accepting that window was closing, and closing fast.

So last November I started freezing my eggs. Which means that every few weeks I stab myself in the tummy a couple times a night with hormones, and come in a couple mornings a week to get more blood taken and say hello to my new pal the transvaginal ultrasound. Then, when we've tricked my body into creating a couple of eggos and they get good and ripe, I take a day off work to get 'em sucked out and sit on the couch drinking a shitload of Gatorade and watching movies and hope they make it through freezing and slowly accrue a collection of Shepsicles that live in a lab in Midtown right near Bloomingdales.

The magic number of eggs you want to have on ice to make this endeavor worthwhile is 30, since not every one is gonna take. And once you start, you're kind of in it to win it to get to that number since anything else is a waste of your time and resources. Most folks get about 10 eggs each cycle. But because I don't have that many rounds in the chamber, it's taken me a lot more.

I just finished my fifth cycle. I will likely need at least one more (editor's note 2024: in the end I did nine cycles of meds and eight retrievals begore I got to the magic number of 30 eggs in November 2021 and I can confirm that is an absurd amount that even impressed the fertility docs). So far I have 14. I'm trying to beat my record of 5 eggs frozen in a single cycle. One time I only got 2. That sucked.

The whole thing sucks to be quite frank. The doctors are great. And the procedures are mostly covered, though I still have to lay out a chunk of cash for this ridiculous experiment. And my insurance gets "confused" frequently about what is and is not covered so I've spent a couple of hours every week since January fighting with them. I have a nurse patient advocate named Vickie who finally scared them into cutting some goddamn checks. If I do make a kid out of this endeavor, there's every chance I will name it Vickie.

If I had any queasiness about needles that's pretty much gone since I've jabbed myself over 100 times at this point. My arms and belly have perpetual green bruises, which is NOT cute. Though I have gotten alarmingly good at having to give myself injections in public restrooms when the occasion calls for it, which is not a skill I thought I'd be cultivating at this stage in my life, but it's never too late to start to develop a new talent. Also I can't have caffeine or alcohol during the process since my ovaries are so stinking DIFFICULT, so if nothing else, that was a major giveaway to my loved ones that I was UP TO SOMETHING.

And as for what happens next: I have no effing idea.

That's part of why I kept this on the D.L. for a while. Even from family. Because they would rightfully have a lot of questions, and I honestly don't have answers. I just knew that when I was faced with the possibility of never having kids I had a big ol' case of "DON'T TELL ME WHAT I CAN'T DO" so here we are.

I share this not just because it takes up a HUGE amount of my brainspace any given day, and NOT because I need or want advice, but because maybe it will help folks who may be in similar positions. I don't know if my AMH levels are what they are because of my age (extremely possible) or maybe ever was it so, and I just never knew (also extremely possible), but maybe my ovary-having friends would be interested in learning a little something about themselves sooner rather than later so they don’t have to find all this out on the Q train platform. Also I suck at keeping my own secrets. Other people's, sure. Mine? Awful.

Thanks for reading, and I'll let you know what's next as soon as I do. #LeggoMyEggos

On Louis CK

So apparently this is a thing that needs to be talked about because I’ve been having some surprising discussions about this, and fair warning that there’s gonna be the word “penis” and descriptions about what penis-havers do with said appendage. So.

What Louis CK did was wrong. You can feel all the ways about it. But it was wrong. And this is why. 

Listen, if I’m working late… or if I’m on a business call…or if I’m at a conference and someone has had the foresight to bring a bottle of whiskey and a bunch of us go to someone’s room for a drink (which is a regular normal thing that happens in Grownupland)… and a colleague whips his penis out and asks if he can beat off (or just commences forthwith), how easy do you think it would be for me to work with him again? How comfortable will I be going back into the office? It’s weird enough when a co-worker asks you out on a date — which is why there are rules about this kind of thing — let along even asking about doing what Louis did.

Now imagine it’s your boss. Or someone powerful in an industry in which you hope to get ahead. Now you know what they think of you, and the degree of respect in which they hold you. What do you think your odds of advancement are now? Moreover, now you know what you think of THEM and how difficult it would be to have a meeting with them, or even look them in the eye. They have given you three choices: report them to HR, interrupt your career and leave your job, or just take it, giving them the satisfaction of knowing they got away with it. 

And reporting anyone to HR for harassment, which is absolutely an option, is NOT FUN. Especially if it’s your direct supervisor or a senior person in the field. Your motives will be scrutinized. You will have to answer uncomfortable questions. And even if HR does the right thing and removes that person and you know you did the right thing, you will never feel great about it.

And yes, I know from experience. And yes, I have almost never talked about it. Because it was deeply unpleasant. It did not involve dick-presentations, but it did involve extremely inappropriate and uncomfortable things said by a direct boss, repeatedly, to me and other women. Just the idea of thinking what I would have done if he took his schlong out or even asked if he could makes me physically ill.

And even if it’s not a professional situation, it’s wrong. If a friend did this to me, he would no longer be my friend. Even if you are on a date, there are infinite scenarios in which this is not okay. Good rule of thumb, if the circumstances are such that the presentation of genitalia or the suggestion of such would be shocking or surprising, such actions should not be pursued jeezustapdancingchrist did I really just have to spell that out.

The “classic” (ugh) weiner-exposing scenario that is practically an unwanted merit badge for women in NYC is the subway perv. If you or someone you know has ever had the honor of having some weirdo whip it out on the subway or somewhere like that, it’s unsettling and awful and stays with you for a long, long time. Of course I’m not traumatized to the point where I can’t use mass transit — I doubt I’d have the choice anyway — but I think about it every time I’m in that subway stop, and I kick myself for not telling the cop I saw a minute afterward because I just didn’t want the inevitable hassle. And I remember his stupid arrogant face, knowing he was doing something that made me uncomfortable that I would likely do nothing about. And this is a stranger’s dick that I saw for half a second five years ago. It’s a sick power thing. It’s wrong for the subway perv, so it’s definitely wrong for someone with actual power over you and your life to do it.

And fine, if we have to play the “what if it were your [fill in the female relation of choice]….” If this is harmless, how would you feel if someone did this to your wife or daughter or niece? How would you feel for that person to go forth without consequence? How would you feel meeting them at a company event? Would you shake their hand? (Now please practice empathy so you don’t have to pretend something awful happened to someone you know in order to recognize something as awful, please and thank you.)

And here’s the thing: if you’re still feeling super conflicted or defensive about this — you can still enjoy his work. You can still think he’s funny or enjoy his show. You can feel sympathetic and hope he gets help. Or you can feel angry and hope he never works again. Or you can feel anything in between. Life is deep and rich and weird and complicated and god knows the list of problematic things I enjoy is long and robust. This is your god-given right to that thing we call perspective.

But what you can’t say is that he did nothing wrong. It's more than just a gross creepy thing you can laugh about later, and it's not that dicks in and of themselves are scary (though, lezbehonest, they are pretty silly-looking floppy little things). His actions had actual consequences on people's lives. 

Yeah, he’s done some brilliant stuff. The women he mentored and harassed who consequently left the industry because of his behavior and the harm they felt he could do to their career if they spoke up might have also done some brilliant work. But we won’t know that. And he needs to be held to account.  

And if you're STILL confused about why this is harmful...then okay, but I genuinely hope that you or someone you know never has to find out otherwise through personal experience.

Meet Miss Bossy

IT'S A GIRL!!! Sometimes when God closes a bunny door, he opens a bunny window. Cleared for adoption today, meet your best new internet bunny friend MISS BOSSY. 

The ASPCA bunnies are being adopted out this week or re-homed at bunny-specific rescues who can give them better long term care than we can here, and Miss Bossy and I have been bro'ing down for a while. She's sassy, snuggly and the same size as Penny the Cat so THEY WILL BE BEST FRIENDS GODDAMMIT I WILL MAKE SURE OF IT.

Just like with Penny, I wasn't totally planning on replenishing the pet situation this soon, but clearly I am not meant to be petless. Think of it as Bun and Tippy paying it forward. 

#PennyAndBossy

Meet Penny

I was going to wait a little while, but circumstances changed, and besides, a Shep without pets is like a sky without stars. So… meet PENNY LEE RIGGS-CAPRA-SHEPHERD, FIRST OF HER NAME. 😻😻😻

Penny and I tried to do a Beyoncé/Madonna on the Rocks type photo shoot to announce her arrival but...it didn't work so good.

Bun Scott Shepherd (2007-2017)

Last night my littlest boo stopped being his bright, bouncy, curious self and was rushed to the animal hospital. Today his little bunny heart just gave out after 9 and a half years. A lot of people always asked me "What does a rabbit DO, though?" and if they got the chance to meet Bun Scott they understood right away what a charming animal he was. He had no fear of people (cats were another matter, hence his awkward co-existence with Tippy), and would follow you from room to room, jump up on the couch to snuggle with you, and generally wanted to be where you were. His trusting and gregarious nature is what saved him when my friend Paul found him on a doorstep on Connecticut Avenue, and he was all too happy to be scooped up and taken in on a new adventure that eventually led to his being my sweet little buddy for the better part of a decade.  

And even though he barely ever made a sound, the apartment is far, far too quiet without any little critters there right now. I actually had to leave on a business trip as soon as I paid my final goodbye to Bun, and I am not looking forward to the silence.

Farewell, Bun Scott Shepherd. Loyal friend and prince among rabbits. July 7, 2007- January 17, 2017

This Is Fine: 2016 Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

1. Everybody Wants To Rule te World -- Lorde
2. This Land is Your Land -- Sharon Jones & the Dap-Kings
3. Dear Mr. Man -- Prince
4. Swingers -- Bryan Dunn
5. Natural Disaster -- Mother Feather
6. Wicked Tongue -- Fife & Drom
7. He's on the Beach -- Kirsty MacColl
8. Scared of America -- Jesse D. Ruben
9. Democracy -- Leonard Cohen
10. War Sweater -- Wakey! Wakey!
11. If You Tolerate This Your Children Will Be Next -- Manic Street Preachers
12. My Shot -- The Roots
13. Tinsel Take Down -- Luke Wesley
14. Mr. November -- The National
15. Walk in the Park -- Parlour Tricks
16. Rock 'N' Roll Suicide -- David Bowie