Tentative: The Opposite of Balls to the Wall

As you are most certainly aware, Senators Barack Obama and John McCain have expressed their "tentative" support for the bailout plan (as opposed to the un-official but still bloody "tentative" support they expressed during last Friday's debate). Listen, I'm all for playing it safe and not voting Yes to the Iraq War in absentia while you are actually in your home state attending little Timmy's softball game, versus in Congress where you should have been, but an economic bailout plan? Don't be shy- you've already made your intentions abundantly clear. Just own it.

At any rate, this had me contemplating things I have "tentative support" for. Considering I am an incredibly decisive (not to mention unduly brilliant and beautiful) woman, this was pretty difficult to compile. Just kidding, it took me five minutes.

Herewith:

1) Sheeps Meadow

I know, I KNOW, ok...it's a big meadow in the middle of Central Park- a veritable marvel of nature! There are few other places in the city that are so expansive and fucking grassy! It's a great place for me to go, pull my shorts up around my bottom, lie in a pile of dirt that many years ago used to resemble grass, and dodge frisbees as they are chucked at my head from all angles. Yes, this is the epitome of restfulness on a weekend afternoon. Yet there is something oddly alluring about it if you are with exceptional company and an equal portion of cigarettes that I suppose lends it credo.

I tentatively support the meadow.

2) Left Over Conference Room Food

I feel 100% ambivalent about leftover conference room food. It totally fulfills my non-specific boredom induced hunger for 6-hour old bagel and lox platters and bite sized brownie assortments at 3 in the afternoon.

3) Kitten Heels

If a shoe doesn't either a) provide comfort or b) make me look like a hooker (but a really expensive one, like in London or something), I can only tentatively support.

4) Spicy Tuna Rolls

These are tasty. They are also the perfect "I'm not so confident about the sushi at this place" thing to order on the menu. A total bastardization of the Tuna fish as manifested in a non-denominational red mayonaissey substance. When I put one of these oversize rolls into my mouth and then have to awkwardly chew it like a caveman until it is reduced to human portions, my taste buds say yes but the internal sushi snob screams No Means No. Basically, I tentatively love Spicy Tuna with a possible upgrade to Total Love if I actually knew what the fuck was in there, sort of like the legislation of the bailout plan.


I could go on, but you get my point.


Tentative support is the epitome of iffiness, and if there's one thing I hate in a man, it's indecisiveness (that, and extreme Conservatism, but I've found that excessive cocktails have a keen ability to lessen the blow of the latter). Tentative support is like saying, I kind of could see myself with you, if only you had a bony ass, which you don't, but if you did...I mean, you'd be virtual marriage material. It's the kind of non-commital committing that is going to render the spine a completely useless element of our anatomy in the matter of, oh, a generation or two.

That is, if you believe in evolution. Tentatively.