I'm a particular type of idiot.

the little voice

There's a little voice in my head that tells me things. Not kill kill kill, but tiny things like "oh there's your cell phone pick it up so you don't forget it." I used to ignore this voice, but after my car was towed because I ignored its little voice telling me to move my car before I left I decided to start paying attention.

Its very silly really. The conversation that now takes place in my head. The little voice will say something and then I'll say "eh whatever I wont forget" but then a feeling of doom will fall over me and decide I better just do whatever the little voice says.

So far I haven't kill anyone or stolen anything, which is really how I gauge whether things are going well or not.

Choose your own adventure

Boys have always been my downfall. After Martin picked some brunette instead of me in kindergarten, lifting up her skirt instead of mine, a lifetime of bad decision making began. As well as a deeply held belief that all men truly want is a brunette to play peek a boo with.

Things I learned by packing until 2 am

1. Any man who wears concealer is not the man for me
2. The man I loved never existed
3. The girl who loved him is now long since gone

keep on driving

Things I hate right now include but are not limited to:

• Men - specifically men that I was/will be/could be/should be/and am are currently attracted to
  
• My mother
  
• Adam Smith
• Facebook and its need to constant remind me that everyone is getting married but me. Whats up with that fbook? I'm not constantly reminding you that you're not google. Not cool man not cool.
  

The more things change the more they stay the same

I used to be one of those people that was too good to drink alone.

I am no longer one of those people.

the reason

Some people date models. I date engineers.

Sure I've made out with carpenters, musicians, bull riders, race car drivers, and the like, but engineers, engineers are really what am all about. Now I know that may sound weird to a lot of you. Or maybe to all of you, and that you may wonder if there isn't some deep psychological issue behind this strange affliction. To which I say, sure there is. My daddy's an engineer and if you listened to Freud that would be the end of the conversation.

But it isn't.

Engineers are the very best kind of men. And it doesn't matter what kind of engineer: electrical, mechanical, civil (well not civil engineers). Ok so we're talking about actual engineers. There's something about a mind that is automatically ridiculously logical that is impossibly arousing to me, because I'm weird, and totally totally a dork. Engineers are also in vast supply and work long hours around other men, so you don't have to worry too much about them hooking up with their co-workers. Besides all of this though, a complex understanding of spacial analysis is great in a lover. Yea I said lover. Lets move on.

The key though, I have found, is finding an engineer who can actually communicate. Using actual words. In english. About things you actually care about. Once you get all those things together you end up in dating bliss. Otherwise known as why I haven't updated my blog since I got back from Chicago. :)

Yea I used an emicon. Let's move on.

llamaface

So I'm going to Chicago in a week. To say that I'm not looking forward to this is an understatement. I have no interest in going up north, nevermind the fact that this is the worst possible timing ever. Funny though because people around the office beg our leader to let them go to conferences out of state, and I get to go to Chicago and its like he's sending me off to iraq. or kansas. or you get the picture.

I'm sure Chicago is lovely and all I just have no interest in going. Especially not now. I have too much that needs to be done and not nearly enough hours in the day in which to do them. I'm just barely getting a handle on this whole growing up living on your own concept. I still barely remember to throw out the bad milk and buy new fresh milk, how can I be gone for a week? Like for example, I bought my car 2 weeks ago and it needs wiper fluid and I haven't bought any, because I don't have any paper in my house, because all my paper and office stuff is in erie, and I need paper to write down a to do list and I don't have any paper on which to write my to do list to remind myself to buy paper so I can make a to do list. This is what we're dealing with people. I have no clue how people my age have children and manage to remember to feed them. Hell I can barely comprehend how I would find the time to remember to feed a pet, cause if I don't eat breakfast the world isn't going to end. But if I forget to feed my imaginary cat he'd eat my face. And that would be a problem, because who would make mailing labels for 5,000+ people then? No one. And the world would end. And we can't have that.

The funny thing is that I'm all rested from Labor day, which was fabulous and relaxing and everything a labor day is supposed to be. And then some. And I went into work today and sat down and looked at my to do list and realized that I have a 3 days to complete a weeks worth of stuff so I then proceeded to destroy my emergency stash of smarties. Because if food can't make the stress go away, then really what's the point of living? or something.

So yea. I'm going to Chicago. And I don't think I'll even be able to take my laptop along with me because the world is a cruel cruel place and why do terrorist have to come between me and my minesweeper? Is there nothing sacred left in the world?

what is that sound?

At roughly the same time every night I hear this buzzing sound coming from the apartment above me (or is it next to me? I can never tell). Its on for at least an hour so it can't possibly be someone brushing their teeth with an electric toothbrush. Really I don't know what it is, because even though the walls are thin they're not thin enough for me to be able to decipher precisely what is making that sound. Its like clockwork though, to the point where I'm kinda waiting for the buzzing to start so I know its time to go to bed.

Ah to be young and live in a thinly walled box.

you gotta work with me

So as we know, I've been dating for a while. By no stretch of the imagination am I somehow new to the concept of having a boyfriend. Having a boyfriend is my natural state of being. Once you've been around the block a few times (or a few hundred times) there are few things that catch you off guard. You know how things go. Or so I thought. For the very first time in my very short life I'm dating someone and I'm the one who is making things all complicated.

Now I know, if you know me your rolling your eyes and thinking "come on jes you've always been the complication" but hear me out. When before it was all square peg in a round hole now its like this makes too much sense, I'm overloading on how perfect this is. But this isn't perfect in the hormone induced craziness of relationships long since past, this is perfect in a completely sane we are two grown people with a plethora of issues but we figure it out as we go along, and then everything is good.

Everything is good.

That's the problem. Well if your me at least it is because I'm used to making things work. Used to stubbornly fighting and sacrificing to make something work that was never meant to work for so long. So the bliss, the insane compatibility freaks me out. Because I'm not used to someone actually understanding and hearing the words that trickle out of my mouth. I'm used to "agreeing to disagree" every five minutes.

So this is nice. Nice and scary, because what if I fuck this up? Then what? It wasn't him or us, or the universe, or the timing, it was me and my id. So that's where I'm at. Trying to not be the complication and just be.

I'll let you know how that goes.

I'll let you whip me if I misbehave*

There's something about Sex and the City that has always bugged me. Its bugged me since the very first time I saw a full episode of the show (horribly dubbed in spanish in cuba) and it continues to bug me now whenever I'm flipping through and catch a rerun (which I always proceed to watch even though I've seen every episode at least 3 times).

The condoms.

If you have watched SATC at all, you know that Trojans are prominently displayed everywhere. In the first episode, when Carrie meets Big she drops her purse and a roll of Trojans fall out of her purse. It was a meet cute satc style, girl meets boy, drops her purse and shows boy that she carries a roll of condoms with her because you never know. Its all very safe, very cute, nothing wrong with this picture right? Wrong. My problem is that women who spend $600+ on shoes and $10 on candy martinis would know better than use trojans. Trojans are the condom of choice when your 16 and dont know any better, but think you're the shit. When in reality you have absolutely no idea what "good" is because you also drank some Bud Light and thought it was amazing. Basically your 16, you dont know any better, you're trying to be safe. All very smart. I'm not knocking the use of condoms.

What I am knocking is the use of trojans past the age of 20 (I'm giving you a 4 year window to not know any better). Especially when your characters on a show in which the entire universe centers around having the very best things in life. Ohh and there's one episode which always gets me, its season 5 and Miranda's baby grabs a trojan (still in its wrapper) and sticks it in his mouth and everyone is horrified until Samantha quips "oh don't worry I have those things in my mouth all the time" and everyone laughs because its funny. Except for me because I'm always horrified, because if you've ever had a trojan in your mouth you know that its not all good, those things have the worse taste known to man. And the smell the smell is awful.

So they should know better. And you should know better. There are better condoms out there than trojans. Much much better. And just like you spent some time and some money searching for something better than bud light you should do the same with condoms. That is all. Go forth and multiply, or something.

* The title is from justin timberlakes "sexyback", dont think that I'm trying to tell you I'm into s&m.

k now the links:

* Okay so first I read this. And then I read the article. Actually no, I started reading the article and then I proceeded to throw up a little in my mouth, because when someone says shit like this with a straight face I just can't keep my food down:
The female orgasm is the natural mechanism by which men assert dominion over women: a man who appreciates this can negotiate whatever difficulties arise in his relationships with them.

Last Christmas, my wife threw me out after discovering I'd been cheating on her. On the night we got back together, I made strong, passionate love to her. Unfaithful as I'd been, I was not going to let her have me over a barrel for the rest of our marriage. I needed to keep a sense of self and not allow her to mire me in guilt and a desperate quest of forgiveness.

I needed to let her know what she would be missing if we broke up for ever. I gave her a manful bravura performance that night, and at the height of her passion, I asked her: 'Who's the boss?'

The question threw her. Initially she wouldn't give me a reply, but I enticed it from her. 'You are,' she finally gasped. 'You are!' I am a very difficult man to be with. I know I have caused my wife great pain and anxiety. But she is an adult, and ultimately it is wholly her choice whether she wants to be with me or not - I cannot be anyone other than myself. Originally when I read this I was going to do a whole post on this thing. And then I realized that I didn't need a whole post, just a few sentences. A good female orgasm, brings a man down to his knees. Its not the thing that a man holds over a woman, like "look how manly I am, I gave you the greatest pleasure you have ever known," its the thing that makes even the strongest manliest men, into idiots. A good moan, an arch of the back, and men turn into putty. In s&m the partner who is actually in control is not the dominant, but the submissive who sets the pace and can at any time say the word and end the "play." Things are not always what they seem, is what I'm saying. By telling you that "you're the boss" she's choosing to give you what you want. All power is relative.

* My favorite blog has always been "girl with a one track mind" but I don't link to it often because the subject manner is beyond pg-13 Long story short it was an awesome anonymous blog, which got turned into a book, and then ended up in having the bloggers identity discovered. All very sad, very tragic, because I'm sure my favorite blog will never be the same.

and how this post end up being all about sex?

dont say

So last night I was going to do a post on crazy bitches in general and one specifically crazy one. It was going to be good because I was really upset about it all last night. But then this morning I woke up, and there was a cute boy in my bed and the sunlight was coming in and I didn't care anymore. So what if they're crazy. It has nothing to do with me and I'm not going to put myself into it by talking about it. Just know crazy bitches are out there and they really don't like me and I think its stupid because I have better things to do than try to steal away the dumbfucks that date them. If they had any sense they'd know that, but alas being crazy they have no sense.

The real news though is that I have a car. Its still sinking in that I now have a car and its in my name, and that it really is mine. But yea I bought it yesterday in the span of like 3 hours. Of course this being me, I didn't do a lick of research cause I could care less what type of car I drive. But my car is still super cute, its redish, ford focus, with four doors. I'd prefer that it only had 2 doors, but whatever its only for the now and I'll be done paying for it in two years.

And yea that's my news. I have a car. Its all mine. And its cute. The end. All thats left now is finding a permanent place to live in and you know furniture and stuff... but its all coming together and its awesome.

ahhh I almost forgot the very best part about my new car is that within having it for like 30 minutes my car had been blessed with holy water, which is fairly amusing, to say the least.

I'd like to paint this picture for you

Last night marked the longest period of time that I have spent alone in my apartment. And there was definitely a point somewhere in hour 5 where I wanted to go out just so the walls would feel a little bigger when I got back in. Its not like I don't like being alone. On the contrary I love being alone. I barely like people at all. Well I like people in the plural sense of the world, its just individuals that I have a problem with. So being alone is one of my favorite states of being.

Until Erie that is, where I'd spent weeks by myself, with the only other person I came into any real contact with being Andres. Clearly I'm scarred because last Sunday I woke up early and ran errands, spent half my day at a coffee shop, and then went over to my dad's because the thought of spending all day in my little studio was soul crushing. And honestly I don't need my soul crushed anymore.

But last night I wanted to stay in. I decided I wasn't going to go out before 10am, it didn't matter that it was a Friday and awesome whomever was going to be wherever doing whatnot. I had stuff to do and I wanted to sleep and I had absolutely no interest in standing in a club having a mindless conversation about whatnot. I wanted to do laundry and watch tv and sleep.

Somewhere in there after finally sitting down and writing something substantial for the first time in months, I decided that I wanted to paint, well sketch some stuff in oils (part 1 of the long and complicated painting process). So I went to open my painting box that had been sitting in my closet for a week. It was like Christmas, and when I pulled out one of my favorite paintings I was deliriously happy knowing that it was now with me and not sitting in some apartment in the middle of nowhere PA. But then as I started pulling stuff out I started getting angry. He'd rolled up some of my paintings and placed packing tape on them to hold them together. Not a big deal until you attempt to pull off the tape and the backing of your favorite painting that took you weeks of work to paint and still isn't finished starts coming off.

Still though, I was happy the paintings were back with me. So I started getting deeper into the box and I realized that there were no paints in there. The 30+ different tubes of artist grade oil paints? Not in the box. My large box of oil pastels? Not in the box. My large sketching pad, that contains everything I've been working on for the last 2 years? Nope, not there. My charcoals? Not there. Even though I'd specifically asked that they all be mailed to me.

If we weren't talking about my entire collection of art supplies that I've been collecting and amassing for years now, I wouldn't have wanted to run someone over with a car. Yea, there are some blank canvases in the box I got, but irony of ironies I have nothing to paint on them with. Oh yea my brushes? All of them? Not in the box.

So I wanted to start throwing stuff. Obviously, because really he should know better than this. He knows how much that stuff means to me. If he had mailed absolutely nothing else it should have been that box. Its hard because I want to vent and at the same time I don't want to say an eight of the things that are rushing through my head right now, because things were really good for a long time and I want to respect that. But, I want my shit back. And of course he's not in Erie anymore, so my stuff if it hasn't been mailed is just going to sit there until December at some point.

Yup. I get the distinct feeling that instead of buying my easel I'm going to have to rebuild my collection. Awesome.

k links:

* My favorite place in Houston is the River Oaks Theatre. And because this is Houston, and we love new things over old things its probably going to be demolished to make a borders or a starbucks or another strip mall. Because lord knows we need another strip mall. Anyways the nytimes is talking about it and you should read about it.

* make any site work friendly. really, make it look like your working all the time.

* the future and whatnot.

mas de mil formas de besar

Here's what I'm learning. I'm learning that I have got not a clue of what is good for me or who is right for me or what is and is not a good idea. I'm learning that its so impossibly good to be with someone who laughs at my midget jokes and makes them right along with me. I'm learning that having a man make me laugh uncontrollably from my gut is impossibly sexy. That being with someone who is as equally messed up as you in the very same ways is fun, and nice, and really comforting. I'm learning to just chill out and relax in a good thing and not think too much and just stop being so damn bossey.

I'm learning that someone making you uncomfortable isn't the sign that you need to run in the opposite direction. Its just a sign that I've finally met my match and its about damn time I stopped being in control all the time.

I'm learning that the word smitten does not come anywhere close to describing what I'm feeling right now. I'm learning that I am a fucking sap. And I love it. But will continue to mock it endlessly while secretly secretly loving it.

I'm learning that falling into something is terrifying but the terror lets you know you're really living. I'm learning that I have no idea what's around the corner. And that things come when your ready for them. I'm learning I can't stop smiling. And its about damn time.

baby baby baby

I still haven't unpacked. Its now August, and I've been in Houston since April and I'm still living out of a suitcase. Well suitcases. I'm entirely too much of a clothes whore to live out of one suitcase for any significant period of time.

More of my things arrived today. More clothes. My linens. But most importantly my painting stuff is finally here. I looked at easels today, since my brother in all his random awesomeness gave me a gift certificate to buy one, and I found myself contemplating how seriously I want to take painting. Its one of those things that I love and when its out of my life for large amounts of time I definately feel its absence. Like my arm is missing type of absence. But for some reason spending a chunk of money on a quality easel seems wrong. Like how much am I really going to paint to justify it. The whole thing is silly because I would just spend that same money on a cute pair of heels or yet another dress and in the long term the easel would make me happier.

So yea. Its totally amusing that the easel would be my first real piece of furniture. And in all honesty I'm probably just get a nice easel made out of oak and not one made of aluminum...but then again its me and I might just decide that the money would be better spend on a pair of black stilletos that have been calling my name.

And as for the boy. I like him enough to know I'm in trouble.

sh*t!

Dear Internets,

I like a boy.
I like him a lot.
And he's not a plumber.

::gelluh::

/mush

38 hours naps make Mondays feel like a steel wall of pain

Okay, so let's talk about Lindsay Lohan. Because I love her and think that she's getting unfairly picked on for being young, and hot, and slutty, and a self made multimillionaire, who likes to drink, and do some recreational drugs, and take slutty pictures. I mean really isn't that what America would like all its young women to turn into? If we're serious for just a bit and ignore that whole "pretend virgin" bs and just got real, then Lindsay really is the American dream. So why the double standard? Male actors do blow, act like sluts, stumble home at strange hours of the night and they're just called Irish or Australian or foreign or misunderstood. I understand all right though, you wanna have a good time, there's no shame in that, Ms. Lohan just wants to do the same thing but when she does she gets a scolding from her producing company. I smell the man at work here, and its just not right.

The girl works alot. She young, and youth only last for so long, so you should you know seize the day and what not. Besides which how many people do you know who can look this stunning coming out at last call? Not many.

ok bunch of links:

* This link is for lasu, who is afraid of the future. Its going to be ok, really.

* "Paris Hilton: Anti-Hero." Its mostly about pop music in general, but it does talk about Paris, who strangely I'm starting to actually like. I'm not quite sure how that happened.

* More evidence in video form that Johnny Depp is the coolest person on the planet. part one and two.

* Umm this site is like crack. Bad awful from the street corner crack. You have to click on the little boohbahs though and go to the part where they dance, because I kid you not I think I lost an hour of my life to this shit.

* If I had made all my millions from videos like this, I too would try to hide behind giant bags.

* This might be the perfect thing for me. Cute pet like object that I cant kill.

* a list of sexy movie scenes, which since they only list a couple of foreign films I totally do not agree with, because really i don't care how sexy tom cruise was in risky business but until you see the Polaroid scene in el sexo y lucia you have no idea what pretend movie sex should look like.

* Okay this video is funny and under 3 minutes. Its a win win.

* This little makeup how to series is awesome. And as an added bonus Elke has the most adorable accent.

* Have you met Face Hunter yet? Because until you have, you have not lived. Reasons I love include but are not limited to: I love seeing people have fun with clothes, I like looking at pretty people looking slightly off, I love clothes, I love clothes on foreigners wearing straight jackets as nuovo vougue, and seriously I love seeing people not taking themselves too seriously.

* Friday night was a weird night at the club. Weird awesome patron shots after last call are a totally bad/best idea ever type of night. There was a guy dressed as a pilot, which really I think says it all.

* A listing of the 50 best movie endings of all time. or something.

* And because just reading fluff rots your brain here's an update on the hpv vaccine. I don't understand why something this crucial isn't just being put inside lollipops and handed out to everyone and their mother. But you know that could just be me, and my irrational fear of dying of cancer.

ps: I'm obsessed with kellis' "bossy", dont worry though this should pass in like another week. or twelve. although for the life of me I cant comprehend whats going on in the video. like what alternate poddle and grilled filled paradise is she living in?

and then there was one.

Blah.

For the past week Yara has been my constant companion. And now she is boarding her place and heading back to California. Ev left on Sunday and is already back in Boston. I miss them already. Sure I've been ruining on at most 6 hours of sleep and my place is a mess and I'm tired as hell, but this past week has been awesome. Like complete and total super busy perfection. There was a picnic at the park with fried chicken and biscuits. Swimming at 11am while still tipsy from the previous nights drinking. There was an awesome birthday dress. I saw some nipples which were perfection but will remain nameless. A soccer game. Colombian food. Venezuelan food. Greek food. A trip to a taqueria at midnight. I got into the club for free all by myself.

It was basically one full week of all my favorite things. Which is funny because really you rarely ever get to do just all of your favorite things and ignore everything else. Well I still went to work, but I just took hour long lunch breaks out of the office, which I'd never done before because I was a bit too consumed in getting everything done. The work/play balance was thrown off this week, but it was fabulous. And I loved every moment of it.

Plus having your birthday fall on a Saturday is an incredible dangerous thing. Because you go out on Friday and then again on Saturday and by the time Sunday hits you take a pass on that wine at dinner, because your liver just cant take anymore.

And my friends. My friends are awesome. I wanted everyone to meet them because they are just perfection. Crazy neurotic I am going to murder them in their sleep and then make out with them some more perfection. I'm convinced that Mount Holyoke women are a totally different deal. It was hilarious watching men try to talk them up and then being destroyed because they just don't stack up.

And the boys. They behaved themselves very well this weekend. And smelled especially good this weekend. I was really happy with them. Even if they couldn't decipher our humor and thought Yara was seriously a whore, and married, and had ten kids. But whatev, it was funny none the less.

Yea this past week was perfect.

Oh and my apartment? It rocks. I'm 20 minutes away from the airport. Down the street from my pho place, my favorite greek place, and the club, and my after club drunken eating place. Ten minutes from the best fried chicken in town, and the soccer stadium, and my job. I actually think I could get away with buying a vespa. So we'll see.

Memento mori

This Carpe diem business is really tricky, because sure "seizing the day" sounds like a good idea but somehow before you know it your hanging out a hipster dive bar listening to screamo with two queens entirely too sober to just give in to the randomness of the evening wondering what weird decision in the night got you in this situation.

Yea. What started out as an early evening out turned into me driving someone home to the third ward at 2 in the morning. Not cool. At all. In the slightest. Because seizing the day shouldn't mean not getting your 8 hours of sleep because your driving a drunk home while trying to figure out the fastest possible way out of the ghetto and away from the prostitutes.

So yea. Good times. Or something like it.

Links!:

* If you have some time I highly recommend reading this, its about the study of happiness and its long but oh so good. Here's my favorite part:

And no matter where they live, human beings are terrible predictors of what will make them happy. If Stumbling on Happiness tells us anything, it's this. "Imagination?" says Gilbert, "is the poor man's wormhole." Our imagination has an odd knack for Photoshopping things in and airbrushing things out, which is why we think that getting back together with our exes is a good idea; it also tends to mistake our present feelings for future ones, which is why, when we decide to marry the right person, we find it unthinkable we'?ll ever be tempted to sleep with anyone else. At the same time, we forget that our imagination has a miraculous ability to rationalize its way out of grim situations- which is why we're more likely to take a positive view of things we did than things we didn'?t (so go ahead and ask that woman to marry you), more comfortable with decisions we can?'t reverse than ones we can, and more apt to make the best of a terrible situation than a merely annoying one.

* Too cute!

* Since Israel is blowing things up I figure it needs some good pr right now, so its in that spirit that I share this video with you.

* Pure random absurd humor in video form.

* "You can't be a bear."

A plumber, a lawyer, and a catholic schoolgirl walk into a bar...

If we weren't sluts we wouldn't have any fun.

That my friends was the quote of the night. I was in the restroom stall ignoring the crying drunk girl at the sink when suddenly one of her other drunk friends in an effort to comfort delivers possibly the greatest line ever uttered in the history of dumb drunk girls everywhere.

It's so true though. Its brilliance lies in its simplicity. If you always did the "right thing" the "smart thing" the "appropriate thing" you would never have any fun. All work and no play, you know?

In the spirit of no work and no play I had a really good night last night. An awesome night. My week was super long. It was all meetings, and trial by fire, and your the only person in the department Jessica, and stare at asp for 8 hours a day, and drop what your doing and go to this meeting in Sugarland, and then order some shirts, and figure out where the faxes come in. A lot of working went on this week. So I needed some major sitting at a bar and drinking to take the edge off the week.

So I did. A couple of Woodchuck Ambers later and the week doesn't seem so rough. Normally when I'm behaving I have 2 drinks and maybe a shot the entire night. Lets just say that it was 12 something and I was way past my quota.

But the drinking was only one part of the fun though. The real fun started way before then when I was getting dressed and wanted to be at once lazy and cute. So I traded my suit pants for a plaid mini-skirt and voila I went from Annie Hall to Catholic Schoolgirl. Now you have to know that my dressing up as a schoolgirl is funniest to myself. Its absurdly funny, so I go with it. Plus I think pretty girls in particular are much too serious about getting dressed. Its all sexy top, cute heels, and jeans and not nearly enough random catholic girl getups. So really I'm doing this for humanity.

So drinking + a catholic schoolgirl getup= getting hit on by my friend's lawyer. The man was like old, but he was rich and it was funny. He knew it wasn't going to happen, but he did it anyways. I like that. I didn't like it enough to go to New York with him on his jet though. So its official that I do not have a gold digger bone in my body. Good times.

I also got hit on by a plumber, but he's adorable and called today just like he said he would so that's impressive. He also didn't give me a look when I told him I majored in Women's Studies, so really he has two things going for him. We'll see what comes of it though.

Okay and now one link:

* Reason a billion and one why I <3 Madeline Albright:

Former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright on women in power: "I'm not a person who thinks the world would be entirely different if it was run by women. If you think that, you've forgotten what high school was like." (via the fix)