there is no mr. cherie

i am on the mailing list for cabot cheese.

this is the point in the blog in which the vegans turn away, disgusted, and others think, "weird that she's on the mailing list for cabot cheese." i didn't mean to be, but am on it, and every so often, i get invited to cabot cheese events. i got invited to one at the end of the month at the marriott in brooklyn. free cheese, free brooklyn brewery (though i don't like beer; i'll just eat extra cheese), why not? so i'm rsvp'ing, and say, "there will be three of us."

the guy on the phone--who sounds as if he lives somewhere in the middle of the country says something about "your husband, mr. cherie." he uses my last name, but uses it as if it were not my own but some copy i adopted from my "husband" so i could show everyone that i'm property of someone else. wtf is up with women STILL doing that?!?! we are no longer property; we are our own people. and um, hate to break it to ya, but 50% of marriages end in divorce. anyway, i like my last name. i wish it didn't start with the letter Y (this means i'm one of the last people to leave the nyc marathon b/c my baggage truck is always the last) but it's unique and it's part of me.

i tried to nicely tell him, "you shouldn't assume that everyone takes their husband's name to demonstrate that they are property. i am not."

also, he was assuming that i was bringing my husband--what if it was my girlfriend? or my sister? or my best friend? i guess the crowd at cheese events would tend to be families, but have an open mind, people!

i have no cheese right now, so instead, i'll think about how rad my freedom is.