Ok so everyone has blogged about it and more but I feel I need to at least talk about poor old '(You Drive Me) Crazy' Shitney Spears. Now to say Britney was bad is an understatement. I felt like I was at a nightclub were a Bachelorette Party had decided to come in and they made the bride-to-be strip down to her underwear and get up and "perform" with the strippers. Oh wait, I forgot to say the bride got a terrible weave before she went out AND took some Valium and drank at least three bottles of champagne.
As far as why would Shitney be allowed to perform? Well from a producer stand point it was win-win. If she was terrific everyone would talk about her "comeback" (even though saying "comeback" is ridiculous since she didn't go anywhere. It just seems like if you haven't done anything for the last six months you can get a "comeback") and say she was amazing and blah, blah. blah. If she was terrible, everyone would STILL be talking about her and everyone would be talking about it. Ta-dah! Press for MTV either way.
I've never liked the comparisons of Shitney to my girl Madge. Albeit there are some similarities but for good or worse (more often times worse) Madonna usually sings live and if she doesn't it's hard to tell. Shitney didn't even attempt to open her mouth for most of her performance. Again it was like someone dared her to get on stage and then she did...
Anyways, so yeah to me Shitney is more like Paula Abdul. Both known more for the looks and dancing abilities. Both have limited if no vocal abilities. They are both crazy, though we didn't learn that until later. They both had huge hits, made lots of money, were admired and imitated by little girls and... (drum roll) BOTH had HUGE bombs on the MTV Video Music Awards.
Does anyone remember Paula's Vibeology performance? YIKES! Oh and of course the be and end all to a career: a change in management. Nothing is faster, except Lindsay Lohan to a bag of coke, then changing your management team that helped make you a star. Hello? Tom Cruise jumping up and down on a couch? When they don't have the proper people reining them in, we get to see what they are really like. And no one really wants that. We say we do but we don't. We never needed to realize that Shitney is probably one generation away or maybe just a cousin from poor white trash. She did much better when we never heard her speak.
By the look of that stripper-wanna-be number she doesn't even have a career at that. Well, strike that, some podunk town will hire her to work the 2-4-1 Pabst Blue Ribbon night.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Friday, August 31, 2007
On my way there, I notice that the 50 year old, um, pleasantly plump lady who usually wears the "I'm Bringin' Sexy Back!" T-shirt, is now sporting the somewhat less braggy "Flirtologist" T-shirt. She has not, however, discarded the hot pink booty shorts. I feel like she's living a lie. And if she isn't, I feel frightened. If she is indeed bringing sexy back, it was not just in hiding, but buried six feet under and will eat your brains if you try to hug it. Or maybe I just watch a lot of zombie movies.
Since my last incidents at the Jalisco, the owner has talked to the morning counter guy about the whole creepy pervert thing. Are you not updated? Well, he kept trying to hug me after purchases, asking me if I'd take him to New York with me and staring at my boobs while saying "you look verrrrrrry nice today. I like your shirt veeerrrrry veeerrrry much" You know, usual pervert stuff.
He also kept showing Jen and I pictures of some 18 year old blonde model and saying it was his girlfriend in New Jersey. Totally. So anyway, the owner talked to him and he doesn't pull too much of that anymore and just takes my money and gives me my stuff like a normal counter person. But today, while I'm there purchasing my vitamin water, he starts talking about the new product they have behind the counter... "pre-paid internet porn cards" with naked lady silhouettes on the front.
"These are for...(insert creepy smile)...internet. You use them on the internet... You like one? (insert creepy smile again.)"
"I'm good with this, thanks"
"Are you sure? (creepy smile, wink wink)"
"Yup. I'm good. Have a nice day."
Ok, that's it. I guess it's rather anti-climatic, but hey, it was five minutes. It's not all that often that I get offered porn cards at 9am by the guy who works at the Jalisco. It's a new experience. Oh well.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
I've got a week off, however- so I've got some time, despite the fact that the family is in town. The whole lot of them- the Queen mum, my dad, my sister and my Uncle who's not really my uncle but my dad's best friend (we're italian). They actually drove down. Which is amazing, considering my mother's chronic fear of cornfields and the creepy little aryan children dwelling therein. She doesn't do well in rural areas. It's true. Back in Rochester, we'd never go to the outlet malls too late, because they were out in Penn-Yan, which is chock full of Amish people. She'd hear the "clopity clop" of their buggies in the dark and start panicking. Because, of course, they were probably transporting meth.
There have been some adventures as of late, although I'm having some trouble recalling them at this hour. Except for the one about the creepy dude who claimed to be the bass player for The Lemonheads. Which he was not. If he were in fact the bassist for the The Lemonheads, I'm quite sure he would know who The Blake Babies were, and he did not. Don't mess with a girl who had a "Sassy" subscription in the early 90's.
Question- you know how they always have those ads like "Someone has a crush on you! Find out who now!" Do you think there are people who think it's real? I mean, that's kind of sad and almost cruel. I just always picture this like, big fat balding recluse dude wearing a shirt with a dragon on it pulled up over his belly seeing that ad and thinking some hot chick wants to do him, and then having his heart broken because really someone just wants him to buy ringtones or whatever. That would be sad if it were true, which it could be. I mean, people are pretty willing to believe things that are clearly total crap if it makes them feel good about themselves- otherwise how would you even begin explain Scientology?
Oh, and I found out the other day that dudes get calf implants. No, really. It's true! That totally kills me- I mean, I'm kind of on the picky side, but I don't think I've ever in my life said to myself "Damn, that fella is super dreamy...oh, wait... nevermind. His calves are just too skinny." That's never happened. Possibly because, if I can see a dudes calves he's probably wearing shorts, and that's a dealbreaker for me. Probably my biggest one, in fact. It goes along with my other major dealbreaker, which is "If I can easily picture you on a farm with a piece of wheat or straw or whatever hanging out of your mouth, it's not ever going to happen." I guess I share my mother's fear of rubes.
I'm kind of happy about it the idea of it though though- in the same way that I'm kind of happy about manorexia. Sort of a "Ha! Now it's your turn to feel crappy about yourselves!" kind of thing. I'm big on schadenfreude.
That is all for now.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Yesterday, Governer Blagojevitch signed the Smoking Ban- which will make it illegal, starting in December, to have a cigarette in a bar. Another thing that will annoy me. Honestly, though- the thing that really drove me up the wall- was not so much the smoking ban itself, but all the dramatic descriptions in articles of "anti-smoking activists" hugging eachother and crying. The descriptions of how they have been working for years to get this ban in place.
And why is that the thing that really annoys me?
In a country where, at this very moment, we are currently stuck in an unjustified, and unending war in Iraq (4,000 American soldiers, and 8,000 Iraqi civilians), nearly a million people are homeless (40% of them families with children source and 200,000 of them in the Chicago area each year), 50 million people are without health insurance (and 18,000 will die each year because of that), and the Government currently thinks that torture sure is a swell idea (Guantanamo, The School of The Americas)... In a world where there are 3.9 million people dying of AIDS, where 6 year old children work 12 hour days just so you can have an ugly shirt from The Gap, where young girls are working in brothels, where actual SLAVES are mining your diamond engagement ring and harvesting your cocoa and coffee beans, where there is genocide in Darfur and Tibet, and a million other places that don't happen to have a healthy supply of oil, and all the other horrible things going on that I just don't have the time to name here.... the thing that bothers these people the most is that I, a 26 year old adult, could go into a bar- a place which is not only completely optional to go to, but allows only those 21 and over to enter- and smoke a friggin' cigarette.
This is why you, my anti-smoking friends, are myopic asshats. I am literally appalled by the fact that, with all the problems in the world, this is the one you waste your time with.
I've never really quite understood why people give a shit about what other people do when they're not present. I don't understand bans on gay marriage, or on sex toys (or acts)- because, well- if the participants are willing, and you're not there when it happens, and you have the option of avoiding the circumstance entirely, I just don't see why it matters to you. I guess some people just can't sleep at night knowing that someone, somewhere, is having a good time.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Ok- I'm a big giant hypocrite. I am such a major advocate of women going and getting sized for bras (85% of women are wearing the wrong bra size, seriously. And not wearing the right size can actually cause some health problems, in addition to not looking so swift), and yet, it's been a couple of years since I've done it myself. Why? Because, if you're me, it's terrifying. I almost don't want to know. I have weird boob issues. I know, I know- people probably want to hear me complain about my ginormous boobs as much as I want to hear people complain that "no matter how much they eat, they just can't gain weight!" But really, they suck and they're just... embarassing, really. I'd get a reduction, but, uh- considering how well I took to getting my wisdom teeth out, that's not so much of an option.
Anyhow, today, I sucked it up and went to "Intimacy" and got sized. I don't think I could possibly find the words to give that store the glowing reviews it deserves. I'm serious. It's on Michigan in that mall-ish thing with Bloomingdales and such. Honestly, every single woman who lives in Chicago (or New York City, or Atlanta, they have them there too) needs to go there, like yesterday. So I go in and do my usual "Ok, well, do you even carry 32DD's?" thing, looking a little bit like I'm dying. And the girl helping me said "oh, yeah, but that's not your size." So I go into the dressing room, and she looks at my bra, and boobs and such and dubs me a.... 30F. (yeah, it was weird, they don't even bust out the measuring tape there, it's like they're psychic!)
Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck fuck. 30F? That in no way sounds normal. Clearly, I'm a freak of nature. I felt SICK. I mean- I've had enough problems trying to find the 32DD's. I usually just settle for 34DD's because- well, they actually exist in some stores. But not only do they actually have my new entirely freakish size there- they have like TONS of them! And they're all pretty! I mean, honestly- once you get above a C cup, you're usually stuck with the grandma bra's. The only thing that sucks is that none of them cost less than 50 bucks (except on sale- and the sales are great, actually). However, the awesome thing is that they are guaranteed for life, and they will alter them for you for *free* when they get stretched out (to explain- if you're bigger up top, you go through bras pretty quickly because they stretch out from the weight). So anyway, I bought two, and they are glorious! And I feel a lot less pressure on my shoulders as well, which is great. I'm so happy I could cry! Oh! And they didn't look at me like I was a freak, either! They were so nice!
So, honestly- go- even if you don't buy a bra there (if you're a normal size, you probably don't have to) and get your shit checked out!
Friday, June 22, 2007
About three years ago, when I first moved to Chicago, I thought I had strep throat. So I went to the hospital on Division (one of the Resurrection hospitals that they talk about in the article), about a block away (How convenient, I thought!) to get it checked out. Now, of course it was just a sore throat, and I'm a hypochondriac, and whatever. But while I was there I said to the doctor "Hey, since I'm here and all, do you think you could renew my birth control prescription for me?" I was told that they could not, because it was a Catholic hospital. I was pissed, and honestly, really surprised. I didn't know they could do that. You know, being that birth control is perfectly legal and all. You can bet your ass, I never went there again.
I do not think people should be allowed to become doctors (or pharmacists for that matter) if their moral religious beliefs will interfere with providing care for their patients. Women's health is not an "option." I mean, what if Christian Scientists doctors refused to give you medicine, or if Jehovah Witness doctors refused to give you a blood transfusion? Why is women's health care considered an option? PLEASE, PLEASE! Some feminist doctor or pharmacist somewhere! Refuse to dole out the Viagra! (Oh, and for god's opinion on Viagra, go here. My favorite line is:
"Throughout the Bible, having a hard and lasting erection is frequently equated with righteousness and Godliness.")
And by the way- not that it even matters, but birth control is also taken for reasons other than preventing pregnancy. I took it before I was even sexually active, because I have PMDD and debilitatingly painful cramps (seriously, I'd go fetal for the first three days and couldn't go to school. I took everything from Midol to Vicodin and nothing helped besides the pill), and another girl I know took it to regulate her period because, at 18, she only got it every four months. So, I'm just saying- there goes that argument.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
"Would you rather be the weight you are now, or five pounds thinner but be unable to control your bowel movements and have an oily discharge coming out of your ass?"
You'd think the answer would be obvious, but it seems that women are heading to drug stores in droves to buy the new FDA approved over the counter diet pill, Alli- which has just these side effects. In fact, the website reccomends that you wear black pants when taking the pill. Shudder.
Oh, and let's be honest for a second... Do they really think they're going to be Scarlett eating barbeque under the oak tree or something when they smell like shit and have stains on their asses? I'm pretty sure that most guys I know would agree that poo is hell of a lot grosser than being five pounds overweight or whatever. Most people I know, actually. Maybe I'll make a graph? Here, take my very important poll!
Oh, and I keep smelling Froot Loops. Does that mean anything? Like when you taste metal and it means you're going to have a heart attack? I mean, yesterday I smelled them on Wells on my way to work, and today in the kitchen it happened again. It was definitely Froot Loops and nothing else.
I should have some coffee.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Oh man, when I was 13 and was like, so totally a riot grrrl... Tank Girl was seriously my hero(ine) (which, you know, explains some poor camoflauge based fashion choices back then), and now Jamie Hewlitt is designing dildo's! How fabulous is that? Well, it would be far more fabulous were they not like, $275 (Could I afford it if I sold all my old copies of the comic? Doubt it.)
Oh, and also, Alan Martin is coming out with a Tank Girl novel (Armadillo!) and two new TG graphic novels (not illustrated by Hewlitt, of course, since he's all busy with Gorillaz and stuff) this year... including one that I believe is coming out this month. Sweet.
You know... I'm thinking- the baby doll dresses are back... now if only Bikini Kill and Huggy Bear could get back together, and if Lisa Suckdog could start publishing Rollerderby again... hmmm....
Oh the horror! Oh.... yeah, and the white guys whole entire life was ruined as a result of this terrible injustice. Now, obviously, it's a ridiculous argument. First of all... how would someone even know that this occurred, it's not like they would put it in the rejection letter or something. Second, would it somehow be more fair if the white dude had gotten in instead? Third... legacies- what about the people who don't get in because they have to make room for someone who's daddy went to Harvard (or Yale) and contributed a whole shitload of money to the school? Much like our dear president? Oh, and not to mention that affirmative action has always existed- except that it's been white men hiring white men. Yeah, it's not the toughest argument to shut down.
But anyhow... read this. And then, you know- try that argument out again. According to the article- because women are out-performing men in school and on tests, the admissions are becoming tougher for them in order to keep a gender balance in the schools. I think after we hear more about this, the fella's will be complaining just a hint less about the unfairness of affirmative action.
Oh, and hopefully it will also put an end to the "The reason there is a wage gap is because men are harder workers/smarter" argument as well. Not to mention my favorite pick-up line "Gosh, you're smart for a girl!"
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Oh what clever decrepit old men will think of when given millions upon millions of dollars to sit in a room eating smoked salmon and bagels. They also had briefly discussed a "bad breath" bomb so secret agents could easily be smelt. Unless of course it was Garlic Tuesday and we all know what we'd smell then. Speaking of smelling, they also have discussed since 1945 making a flatulent bomb. No not dropping a bunch of Taco Bell on a bunch of people but actually letting something rip that would cause everyone to get a major case of the toots. They nixed the idea because in some countries people actually like in shit. Like literally! Can you believe that some people actual have become accustomed to smelling feces? Gasp. I thought everyone walked around in air condition with fuzzy pink bunny slippers and a tiara. I mean that's what I'm wearing now while I write this and let out a few poofs from my gay tush.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
(this one has monkey bars- but look! They're only as tall as that kid standing next to them!)
If I was a kid, I'd be pissed. I mean, I get that safety is a concern and all- but they just look boring as hell. Kids should have scraped knees, they should puke from spinning around in circles, and have bruised butts from their friend jumping off the see-saw too soon. I firmly believe this. My mom didn't want me to be afraid to climb the jungle gym- she didn't want me to be afraid of anything- even getting hurt. I learned to laugh when I fell down instead of cry. I learned fearlessness, I learned to hang from my knees.
I think these things build character. If you have a bubble-wrapped childhood, I think it's possible you'll grow up to be a whiny bastard. I'm kind of grateful for every crappy thing that happened to me when I was a kid. It's why, at 26, I am such a ballsy-ass broad now!
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
You're the only one like you!
The world is better just because you're here!
You should know that we love you!
'Cause you are special, special,
Everyone is special!
Everyone in his or her own way!
While this Barney song wasn't around while we were growing up (Hey, I babysat a lot, give me a break! I had to watch a lot of that crap), the attitude definitely was. It's probably even worse now- I've heard they changed the lyrics of "Frere Jacques" to "I am special, I am special, Look at me! Look at me!" in Nursery Schools across the country. Parents were/are told that they have to constantly remind their kids that they are special in and of themselves without them actually doing anything. I've always felt that was pretty retarded (as I tended to be on the "existence precedes essence" side of things, even before I knew what it was)- but I'm even more annoyed with it now, as an adult.
See, I think it affected men more. Women my age were raised with that idea, but at the same time were told "You have to be ten times better to be considered half as good (as a man)" along with a lot of ideas about sisterhood- and I think that those things sort of counterbalanced the "You are special" doctrine in a lot of ways. I also think that, as a "minority," things were a bit tougher for us, which helped us build character.
See- the thing is- you've got these guys who were told they were special, precious, snowflakes. And they've got this world to deal with where there used to be this cookie of male privilege, which is being "taken away" by women who believe they should have equal rights, equal access, and equal pay. I think that this, on many levels, means that misogyny is even more poisonous than it was prior to women's liberation. And it's not necessarily that on a cognitive level that they disagree with this idea. Not most of them anyhow. But every so often you get these wafts of bitterness.
1) "It's NOT FAIR that women sometimes get free drinks by guys who are trying to get into their pants! I think *I* should get free drinks!" (such a SWEET deal, huh? We've totally got it made!)
2) "Since women are equal to men now, I think I should be able to hit a woman like I would a man."
3) "I don't see why I should have to put in any effort at all to attract a woman. It's NOT FAIR! Supermodels should just jump in my lap because they see that I am a special, precious snowflake and love me for me, and not care that I pick my nose, or that I never want to go anywhere, or that I don't have much to say." (not that they actually say this, but it's often implied.)
4) "It's NOT FAIR that women have an easier time getting laid than I do!"
5) Straight white men are the new minority! Why is it ok to hate us? (We don't hate you, we hate your privilege.)
With some exceptions (my very first straight male friend- Luke, my gays, pretty much all of the guys I know who are over 32, and a few others), I trust my female friends more than the men I know. There is more of a comradery, and you don't have any of that underlying bitterness to deal with. I know that they care if I'm safe, and I care if they are. It's a certain awareness we have, especially since, as women, we are obviously more prone to being attacked or raped. We make sure everyone has a ride, or gets into a cab at the end of the night. If I'm staying over someplace else, I let Jen know. I think maybe it's hard for men to understand that whole rigamarole, because it's not something they have to deal with? I don't know. I trust my girlfriends to have my back and stand up for me- while, honestly, most guys are a little wimpy in this area. They never get that it's not about "I need a man's protection"- but about "If I'm dating you, or if we're friends, it would be swell if you cared whether I live or die, or had my back once in a while."
(To sum up: My expectations of men are the same as my expectations of women. Unless I'm dating you, in which case there are obvious exceptions that really don't apply- that and I expect that you buy me dinner. Why? Because there's still a wage gap.)
I think it's just this... supreme self-centeredness that prevents them from seeing that. I think that sort of "sensitivity" is a lot more worthwhile than the kind where you cry all the time. I have to say- a pretty important issue for me and a lot of other girls I know is the "I've got bigger balls than any guy I know" problem. There's just not a lot of character or chutzpah going around, it seems. (Oh, also- I'm not saying *all* women are like this, just more of them than there are men, and I have an eye for finding them)
One really big thing I notice, is that almost every guy I meet freely talks shit about his mother. It's totally bizarre and offensive to me- and on a very real level, very misogynistic. I mean, extenuating circumstances aside, I do think that if a guy treats the woman who gave birth to and raised him like shit- you can get a pretty good idea of how he's going to treat you. It's also a pretty immature thing to do. I was raised, half-way, in that Italian-American culture, where there are these guys who are super tough and macho, but would never, ever say anything against their mother. Not in a million years. And they'd pretty much kill you if you ever said anything about their mother. And there is something I about that attitude that I always thought was super cool. And just think! These are the "You are a special, precious snowflake!" moms! Frankly, I think, what we're dealing with is basically, a whole crapload of spoiled brats.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
First, Jen says to me "Have you met Cookies yet?" And no, no I haven't. She then brings out a baby leopard and says that she found him near the dumpster and that he's the same kind of cat as her cat (who is, somewhere down the line, part wildcat) so we have to keep him. I say he is a leopard and will probably kill us, and no one believes me. Then I go Christmas shopping with my mom and get kidnapped by this bizarre white trash man who says he traveled all the way up here from Arkansas to kidnap me, because I stole his favorite pair of Bermuda shorts from Old Navy. Which, by the way, I did not.
And then I woke up. And I go to get coffee at Atomix and orange juice at the... Jalisco? I don't know, the convenience store across the street. With the guy who likes to touch me. He's a weird guy. The first time he saw my ID he freaked out because I was from NY. He said his girlfriend lives in New Jersey, and then made me wait for 5 minutes while he finds her picture in his phone, and then shows me this 18 year old super hot blonde chick (he's a 50 year old highly unattractive dude, I'm not buying it. I bet you it's a picture from a catalog or something.) He always asks me to go to New York with him. Which I am, of course, not going to be doing ever. Today, however, I purchase my orange juice and he cheers "You are my first customer today!" and starts shaking my hand and refusing to let go. "I'm really late," I say... "Oh, just give me a hug" says he... and then I pull my hand away "Nope, really, gotta go- see you later"
I don't know- something about the whole thing just creeps me out. So like, if I ever go missing, check the freezer at the convenience store across the street.
But, I do get to see the fam today, and that's pretty damned awesome, I think. They're pretty much the best ever.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Although, I don't hate the dentist as much as I hate and fear dental hygienists (and am thoroughly weirded out that all the dental hygienists at my dentist's are named Judy... it's very Twilight Zone...). I honestly can't handle it when they talk to me and expect me to respond whilst poking around my mouth with sharp objects. It makes me panic. Especially because they're always really perky. I deal poorly with perky-ness.
Dental Hygienist: So, what have you been doing in Chicago?
Robyn: Allaghsighdksidh, dhdsisdich...ewqnjklvdhi...(drool...)
I don't hate flying because I'm afraid the plane will crash. I merely fear being annoyed at the airport. EVERY time, something obnoxious happens. I swear to god, I have no luck at airports. Ugh.
But Jerry Falwell is dead, and that's pretty swell. And I'll of course be glad to see everyone. Even though I won't look very pretty what with the swollen face and all...
Saturday, May 12, 2007
2. "Betty vs. Veronica"- Veronica
3. "People with birthdays in June"- Me!
4. "The Truth About Diamonds"- They are mined by slaves and you shouldn't buy them
5. "A guy told me i'm intimidating"- Good for you! I find being intimidating to be an excellent way of separating the wheat from the chaff. I mean, I figure, if a guy can't get the cajones up to talk to me, what chance does he have of dealing with me on a regular basis? Guys with balls= less pep talks and coddling. Always a good thing.
6. "Why are beautiful women always single? intimidating" Because we don't have low enough self esteem to deal with stupid dudes.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
I just have to say- I'm already a pretty tall lady- 5'8". If I was out seeking male approval, I would probably never wear heels! In fact I'd probably slouch! I just happen to like shoes. I like pretty things. This doesn't make me any less of a feminist. I'll never see the difference between rad-fems who say if you wear make-up or wear heels or shave your legs you're not a feminist and the Christian freaks that say if you do so you're a damned jezebel.
Also- like I've said before- most of these "beauty standards" are created and perpetuated by women. Women primarily dress up for themselves and for other women. Don't believe me? Go out looking like crap one night, and see how much more often you get approached than when you're all dolled up and look fabulous. Men have far lower standards than we give them credit for. Seriously- like my mom always says: "Don't drive yourself crazy, haven't you read Portnoy's Complaint? They'll screw a piece of raw liver if that's what's around." Most men could not tell the difference between a pair of Manolo Blahniks and a 10 dollar pair of shoes from Target if their lives depended on it!
Saturday, April 28, 2007
Some things should really just stay on Saturday Night Live where they belong
Apparently, a Utah (are we surprised?) Republican is now insisting that "Satan" is responsible for illegal immigration. Yeah, no- it's a part of his plan for world domination- to bring down the United States with illegal immigrants. Really. Satan.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
(oh, also check out this post at Echidne of the Snakes for more of Camille Paglia's ridiculousness)
I don't even know where to begin. It's kind of extra special that she quotes Camille Paglia (Well known for her feelings on circumstances where women "deserve" rape, and how feminists refuse to understand how rape and gang rape can be "fun" for men")
I find that this is not an unpopular sentiment. I wrote a piece once- a letter to a man who had hollered at me from his car, and when I ignored him, he pulled over, then got out of the car and screamed "I just want to talk to you! Come back here! You fucking bitch!"- and a lot of the criticism I heard from that was very similar to this article. That "this poor guy" just wanted to talk to me, and that I shouldn't have been so cold to him. Now, I was pretty horrified to hear that. First of all, because we learn as kids not to get into anyone's car, and that talking to strangers is probably not the best idea. I've also had a number of stalkers, which I've written about quite a bit. And the scariest thing about that, is that I always end up hearing the "Oh, the poor guy! He just liked you and didn't know how to go about it!" line.
This is wrong. There is this "I am a man. If I want a woman I should be able to drag her by her hair into my cave" mentality among men that doesn't seem to be going away. Even on a conscious level, there are a lot of men who cannot seem to grasp this concept:
1. Women have a right to not like you, date you, or fuck you.
2. Women have a right to like, date and fuck men who are not you.
3. Women have a right to be attractive or sexy- which you may find appealing- and still, they don't have to like, date, or fuck you.
4. You do not have the right to fuck any woman you want, because she has a goddamned say in the matter.
It's not that hard. But I think they're socialized to think that. I mean, hypothetically, say there's some guy who I liked who doesn't like me back, I wouldn't get all vicious call him a cold-hearted asshole. That wouldn't be my first instinct- I would probably say "Man, that's a sucky situation." But if some guy likes me and I'm not interested? I am a mean, selfish, cold-hearted bitch- and of course, a whore because there are other men I am interested in. This, I think, is the primary root of misogyny. (Some) Men believe that women deny them a basic human right by not doing them, and as a result, they have the right to act violently against us.
Fuck that shit.
Monday, April 23, 2007
I don't know, I don't really see anything inherently wrong with that. I think "I'm dumping you talks" are a lot suckier on both ends. I always feel like they want me to have like, a power point presentation on why they suck at life, and then we have to debate the issue. I don't like it. I like band-aids.
Oh no- it's real. It's the Westboro Baptist Church- you know, the whole Fred Phelps, wacky ass funeral protesting people. If you want to know what they're about, I HIGHLY reccomend Louis Theroux's documentary "The Most Hated Family in America"- which can actually be seen on You Tube in several parts- if you want to see it, go here and click on the videos labeled "god hates fags." I'm telling you, they're way freakier than you might have imagined.
Notice how the "dumb blonde" in jokes is never a man? See, because while men are precious, unique snowflakes, women can be easily understood and defined... by their hair color. Oh, and also we're catty bitches. Culturally and historically, women are put at odds with eachother via stereotypes. You have "Blondes vs. Brunettes," "Ingenues vs. Vamps," "Virgins vs. Whores," "The Girl Next Door" vs. "The Girl From The Wrong Side of The Tracks," The Dumb, Bitchy, Pretty Girl and her Smart, Funny, Homely Friend," Ginger vs. Mary Ann," "Betty vs. Veronica" and "Elizabeth Taylor vs. Debbie Reynolds." This occurs for two reasons: A) The fella's love a catfight- particularly one that involves a "good girl" and a "bad girl" fighting over them, and B) Convenience. When you put someone in a box, you don't have to waste your precious time getting to know them as an individual.
Unfortunately, stereotypes can act as self-fulfilling prophecies. So it worries me that some little girl is going to see this commercial, and think that, because she has blonde hair, she must be stupid, or a bimbo, or shallow. Or feel like people are going to judge her in that way.
Now, if you go to the website, they have these "experiments" which, quite frankly, are even more horrifying. "Who eats more junkfood? Blondes or Brunettes?" And they secretly filmed a bunch of women at a buffet table- scoring up the amount of fattening food they ate. It was the blondes, which caused the male host of the video to exclaim "Well! They better put on their legwarmers and head straight for the gym!" I mean, really- it's just sickening sometimes the way that the advertising industry just isn't even a little bit shy about trying to make women feel crappy about themselves.
Sunday, April 22, 2007
Thursday, April 19, 2007
A teacher in Louisiana turned dozens of girls away from their prom, because their dresses were too "revealing." Now, if you look at the pictures, there is a common theme- most of the dresses just look like typical prom dresses you'd see any girl wearing- except that the girls wearing them all have large chests. Now really- I'm sorry, but if you have a large chest, you are going to have some kind of cleavage in nearly any gown you might find. They don't make a whole lot of turtleneck evening dresses.
When I went to a school in Massachusetts with a very strict dress code- one of the rules was that we couldn't wear skirts or shorts that were more than a hands length above ones knees (or shorter for me because- and I shit you not- I had long fingers). Now- I'm 5'8"- pretty tall- however, I have a midget torso. If I sit down next to my sister, who is 5'2"- we are the same height. I have a 38 inch inseam. So, I ended up getting sent home from school at least once a week during the hotter months because I literally could not find shorts or skirts that were that long. And mind you, I was 12 and not exactly trying to look like a sexpot. I also got sent home for my shirts- because- yeah- turtlenecks are not for year round wear. You know, because having giant boobs in middle school isn't nearly humiliating enough.
I think schools really need to look at their dress codes and see if they are codes that are possible for those of all body types to adhere to.
On another, somewhat related note: I've always found it interesting how people feel absolutely free to comment on the size of my chest- whereas I never see anyone walking up to a flat-chested girl saying "Hey! Way to have no boobs!" Fairly recently, upon meeting me, a girl said "Oh, I always felt bad for girls with big boobs, because they always look fat." I'm not kidding. I held my toungue, if you'll believe that. The thing is- I'm usually the first one to make fun of the size of my chest. It's sort of a trick that I learned in school when I'd get picked on- you know- like "Ok, I'll be the one to make a joke about this first, and that way it takes away your power" kind of thing. There was this one time in the girls locker room where I got cornered by this crazy broad who screamed at me, demanding that I confess to stuffing my bra lest she have to kick my ass (I imagine she had a few screws loose)- so I flashed her. Yup. Then she ran out of the locker room screaming that I was a lesbian and came onto her. Of course, I'm forgetting all the other fun assumptions people make about you when you are... well endowed in that area.
That was a bit of a tangent there, and I apologize for the disjointedness of it. I guess what I'm saying is that the world (and certainly highschool) gives women enough crap about the way they look that it doesn't need to be institutionalized. No one should say "oh, this girl can wear this dress and look sweet and innocent because she's flat-chested, but if you wear it you look like a whore and you can't come to our prom." That doesn't exactly bolster self-worth, now does it?
Another man — wondering if an attack on Iran is in the works — wanted to know when America is going to “send an air mail message to Tehran.” McCain began his answer by changing the words to a popular Beach Boys song.“Bomb bomb bomb, bomb bomb Iran,” he sang to the tune of Barbara Ann.
“Iran is dedicated to the destruction of Israel. That alone should concern us but now they are trying for nuclear capabilities. I totally support the President when he says we will not allow Iran to destroy Israel.”
My first instinct was "Hey, John McCain! You leave Brian Wilson out of this! Jerk!" and then I remembered that it wasn't an original Beach Boys song- but still. Something about that statement just made me itch underneath my skin. It's just... there is something intrinically creepy about using a peppy surf song in regards to bombing a country. It's very George W. Ick.
First of all, there's nothing I like better than a bunch of men telling me what I can and cannot do with my body! Second of all, I really, really dug the whole thing in the decision about how this was to help women who might become depressed after having an abortion. Well, gol-ly! How about the women who will be dead from not having access to one? Don't they matter? Late-term abortions do not generally happen because the mother all of a sudden decided "Oops! I didn't really want this thing" or because she was lazy and didn't get around to doing it until the third trimester, ok? They are almost always performed because the mother's health is threatened in some way. Which is why this ban is so specifically perverse.
Of course, the bill does allow for these abortioned to be performed on an as-applied basis for emergencies only. Ok- maybe they're not vocabulary whizzes, but doesn't it seem a little ridiculous for a woman in need of emergency medical attention to first have to sue the goddamned government? Because I am pretty sure that would take quite a bit of time and by then she'd probably be dead. But maybe that's the point? Not to mention the awkward situation caused when the gov't says to this woman "Oh, gosh- you know, it would be so nice if you didn't have to die, and all- but sorry! We love us some fetuses!"
What she said...
Thursday, April 5, 2007
So I read an article today that the Associated Press put a one week ban on Paris Hilton. They did no stories about her as an experiment to see if anyone cared. Guess what? They really didn't. It seems most people applauded it, although some people griped about who will they ban next? Blah, blah, blah. I say who really cares about Paris Hilton? I don't care what color underwear she's wearing or lack thereof. I know some people must care because these people make headline news. The news has become such fluff it's hard to call it news anymore. I mean, come on, it's sad that Anna Nicole is dead but come on, does anyone care where she is buried? And national headlines because Britney shaved her head? Okay so that one was humorous to watch, especially when she attacked a car with an umbrella! Genius! I think my next short will be about all these "celebrities" and about how little talent they have and how everyone seems to care about them...
Maybe I'll call it: Who Really Cares About Paris?
Or even: So You Think You've Got Talent?
Or She could call her own book: My hoo-ha and Other Misadventures of the League of Untalented Hoochies
Well if you want to read the whole article on the ban of Paris go here:
I am just hypnotized by it. I'm sad it's almost over, to be honest. I have to tell you, in no way can I figure out why this lady had 20 dudes fighting over her... I mean, she was just a whole world of awful.
Anyway, it's made me realize that one of two things should happen:
A) I should make my love life more like a reality TV show
B) I should have my own reality TV show ala "I Love New York" or "The Bachelor" etc.
In the case of premise A, from now on, if I happen to be talking to two fellas in a bar or where ever, I will insist that they run a relay race or battle it out in a cagefight to win my heart.
Premise B, however, I have given a good deal of thought to. It would be called something like "Robyn Thinks You Are All Pretty Much Awful."
The bachelors would consist of people I usually date:
- The guy in his thirties who still collects action figures!
- The really nice but generally insecure guy that I lose patience with!
- The kind of stupid guy that I date because I'm trying to prove that I'm not an intellectual elitist, and also that I can do anything a man can do!
- The guy who is very nice and very pretty and with whom conversation is very much like playing ping-pong with Frances the Armless Wonder. Who is also incapable of getting that joke.
- The recovering alcoholic!
- The not-so recovering alcoholic!
- The guy who never stops talking about his stupid band!
- The guy who I think is "interesting" due to some ridiculous quirk, but who then turns out to be batshit crazy!
- The guy who loves me only for the free therapy I provide and needs 80,000 pep talks a day, yet never fucking asks me how my day was!
-The "I don't know, what do you want to do?" guy
- The guy who gets upset because I'm not being funny or flip or whatever for five seconds because something traumatic has happened!
- The guy who recently broke up with a crazy broad, and then dates me for a while so I can help him recover so that he may go and find another crazy broad and be retraumatized!
-The guy who is pretty much ok until I realize that he sort of looks like ______ and it totally weirds me out
- The guy who thinks I'm his soulmate and is in fact wrong about that.
And others! Too many to list here, mind you. Oh, and also, many fall into more than one category, it's not like I'm that much of a ho)
Anyway, so what happens, is- I go out on dates with these guys. And I'll ask them the usual dating show questions like "If you were an animal, what animal would you be?" and then they would give me the usual dating show answers like "I would be a bumblebee so I could pollinate you all day long baby!"
At which point, instead of giggling or saying "Ooh! You're naughty!" or whatever they say, I just stand there looking horrified.
Oh, and at the end of each show there would be a segment called "What the fuck was that about?... Oh my god, I know- right?" where I talk to my girlfriends (or Mr. Catface) about how fucking lame the guy was, and in turn, they relate the stories of how fucking lame the guy they went out with was who was kind of like that.
And that is pretty much how it would go. Oh also- not all of them would like me, either. Because I always feel like it's really weird how all of the "bachelors" or "bachelorettes" all supposedly actually really like the main person. I just don't feel like that's possible. At least half of them would say "God, doesn't she ever shut up?" or something to that effect. There are lots of things wrong with me- I know this for a fact. Usually the complaints I get have something to do with my verbosity or the fact that I have "too much energy"- which is weird, I've always thought. Oh, that and the fact that sometimes they think I'm crazily vain or egotistical, because they don't get that I'm kidding (which is totally sad, because I actually use the term "delusions of grandeur." Oy.)
So yeah, that's what my super awesome reality TV show would be like. You know you'd watch it, bitches.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Wow, an investigative piece on whether or not Jane Austen was attractive or not! Go New York Times!
NOBODY knows for sure what Jane Austen looked like, which is causing some of her admirers a degree of anxiety these days. Was she attractive or not? What if, to put it bluntly, she became a writer in part because she didn’t have the looks to land a husband along the lines of a Mr. Darcy or a Mr. Knightley?
Oh, yeah, because we all know that women only do things with their lives because they can't get a man. Duh. And all this anxiety! Oh my god! The horror of reading a romance novel by a chick who may not have been hot! I feel so decieved! I mean, frankly, I personally only want to read books by supermodels!
Now this is what I call quality literature!
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
Monday, March 26, 2007
2. Today while I was wandering around downtown in between classes, I came upon the most amazing thing ever. It's called the "Stitch Salon"- and it's only open until Saturday (I was a little late on the bandwagon)- so if you're a knitter or a crocheter or sewer or something, you should go check it out before it closes- apparently it's been open the whole winter. Basically, people go down there and stitch a patch onto this skirt, and then they're going to take it around to yarn shops and put it on display. I think it's a really nifty idea. In fact, it gave me an idea of my own- I think I'm going to try to get everyone I know to give me a patch of some kind- like, not necessarily knitted or crocheted if they don't know how to do that- even just like, a cloth patch that they've decorated somehow, and sew them all into a blanket. I don't know how many people I could get to jump on that bandwagon, but I think it would be really super awesome if I could make it work.
3. SheepMan Lives!
4. Crazy anti-choice politicians in Texas want to buy your baby
Monday, March 19, 2007
Still, most of them have way fewer friends than your average girl with pictures of her bethonged ass. Maybe they need to get webcams? Shudder.
Sunday, March 18, 2007
Nipple Tint Goes MassOk, I'm not a straight guy or a lesbian, but if I were, I feel like I'd probably be damned weirded out if I found out that the chick I was with was rouging her nipples to make them appear to be fresh and rosy. I know I'd be really freaked out if a guy did it.
Benefit touts Benetint as nipple paint.
By Beth Landman
In just one more sign of the stripperization of the Everywoman,
Benefit’s Benetint, conceived in the seventies for an exotic dancer to color
lips and cheeks, is now also being sold at Sephora and elsewhere as a
“kiss-proof and water-resistant” nipple tint. “Women want nipples to be pert and
fresh-looking, and this shade makes them appear that way,” Benefit spokeswoman
Alison Haljun says. “For a long time, the idea of a ripe, rosy nipple has been
considered appealing and alluring.’’ But aren’t the nipples usually undisplayed?
“Even if you don’t show it off, you know they’re rosier and more perky,” she
says. Sonia Ossorio, president of NOW in New York, says, “I can barely keep up
with keeping my nails manicured, much less this nauseating onslaught of new
beauty standards. While women are spending their energy, time, and money getting
their areolas just the right shade of pink, the Supreme Court is getting more
conservative and closer to taking away our long-fought right to reproductive
However, for the purpose of experimentation, since I own a bottle of Benetint (for cheeks and lips, not for my boobs), I decided to try it out. Just on one. And in no way was it any kind of positive change, and in fact looked sort of bloody. I haven't washed it off yet, and I will tell you that I feel no better about myself with my one nipple looking this way. In fact, I feel really weird about it.
Now, I will tell you that I do indeed own a thing of strawberry flavored nipple gloss. But it was a dollar at the porn store and I bought it because, well, that's just too funny and how could I not buy it, right? And also it works as lip gloss. However, I must tell you, that no one has ever complained that my nipples were not fresh and rosy looking enough, or glossy or strawberry flavored enough. Never in my life. It's never, ever happened. And, frankly, I would put money on the fact that it never will. I have had nothing but positive reviews on them just the way they are. So, dears, my Benetint will be staying on my cheeks and lips where it belongs, thank you very much.
Think about it- if you have boobs and a vag, you can pretty much get laid anytime you want. I mean- have you read Portnoy's Complaint? A guy will do it to a piece of raw liver! Their standards are waaaaaay below what we think they are. They don't even notice when our hair is an entirely different color- you think they notice when we're three pounds overweight? No, they don't. But we do. Women are far more conscious and judgemental of the appearance of other women than men are.
Now, if you actually talk to your average guy, odds are he'll tell you that A) He's not that into stick figures and B) He actually doesn't like make-up all that much. We can be told this until hell freezes over, but we're still going to diet and spend a crapload of cash at the Nars counter. Why, because it's not them, it's us. We're looking at the television and we're looking at magazines instead of looking around in the world. Now- I don't attract any fewer men than I did when I was 15 lbs lighter, but at the same time I am trying my damnedest to get back there.
Think about this for a second. At a bar, there is a smoking hot chick, and an average looking chick. Who do you think is going to get hit on more? If you said the hot chick, you are wrong. Men are terrified of rejection. They figure the hot chick will be far more likely to reject them than the average looking girl is. So, if you want to reel in the fella's, you're probably better off being plain looking. Also, men, being individuals, usually have different ideas of what they think is attractive that don't necessarily conform with the media's beauty standards.
If you think about it, we're actually a lot harsher on them than they are on us. I mean, I don't think men sit around with their friends compiling lists of qualities their ideal person would have to possess. They probably don't pick apart every individual detail of anyone they are dating either and analyzing everything they do or say. But a lot of the time, we do. And frankly, I think that we're projecting.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
I digress. Now, I try to stay away from writing too many personal things on here. However, this past Wednesday was something special. Short bus special. Pour quoi? In three short hours I ran the marathon of abject humiliation. And survived. Because I'm a survivor, baby. Check it out:
10:30am- Chicago Bus. Try to get off at Millwaukee, only to find that my earring is attatched to the man standing next to me and have to get off at next stop as I cannot untangle myself from his Cosby sweater.
10:45am- Go to get on the Blue line, as I am walking onto the train, the strap on my shoe breaks and my shoe falls off, and the train takes off with me on it, leaving my shoe on the platform before I can do anything about it. Have to ride to Grand standing on one shoe, get onto next train, retrieve shoe at Chicago stop and get back on train.
1:00pm- Random fella on street asks for a light. "Sure! I have matches!" I say. I reach into my purse to grab them, and then hand to him what I believe to be a pack of matches, but is instead, a condom. And not just any condom. The kind Linday and I got from the funny vending machine in the bathroom at Twisted Spoke, which was labled "Black Studded Condom" and appeared to be manufactured to appeal to bikers or something.
Ta fucking da.
The sad thing is, people- I'm barely phased. My face was not even red. And let me tell you why- because when you have lived this so many times over, it's just another day. Oy.
Friday, February 23, 2007
One thing that has always struck me as interesting, is the profound difference between girls right around my age- who went to middle school and early highschool in the days of Sassy Magazine and the Riot Grrrl movement, compared with girls just a bit younger- by one or two years, even, who went through those days with Britney Spears and the Spice Girls. It was especially obvious in highschool- I remember we'd be sitting in the cafeteria looking at the underclassmen being weirded out that some of the girls were actually cheerleaders- which we kind of regarded as something of a throwback. Especially because they only cheered for the boys teams. I also remember the first time I saw a Britney Spears video and thought "Oh man, this has to be a joke. No one would actually take this seriously! We make fun of this stuff now!" I was shocked when "Princess" shirts came out and women actually wore them without a hint of irony.
I have to wonder- would I be the same person I am now if I had been born a few years later? I mean, my mother was and is a very strong feminist role model- but without the culture to back me up, who knows where I'd be. I mean- there has to be a difference, culturally. I mean- you've got the girls that read Sassy, which was all about empowerment, and activism, and making skirts out of ties... and then you've got these girls who only had YM- which was all about being embarassed about your period and getting the guy who sits in front of you in Math class to notice you. You've got Kathleen Hanna telling you to get angry at sexism and rape culture, and then Britney saying "Hit me baby one more time." Something happened.
We've all discussed a billion times how riot grrrl got turned into the more marketable "Girl Power" movement. All of a sudden, women playing guitar turned into women prancing around in hot pants. It was no longer about doing, but being. Women like Roseanne were replaced on television by the ditzy Friends.
It was a small window in time. Maybe only about 4 years or so. I think it's possible that we, as women, have let the younger generations down- we didn't keep it going. We can't blame it all on marketing- because we could have been working harder to keep the grass-roots movements going that were actually having a pervasive effect on society as a whole. It's up to women to empower eachother, because clearly, we can see what happens when the corporate machine is given free reign.
No. No I don't. Because, quite frankly, I think most people are completely full of shit. I also see ulterior motives in just about everything.
Like for instance, this one time I'm at this bar, right? And I'm talking to this guy and he gets all "Oooh... you have really perfect skin, are you wearing face make-up or anything or is it just like that naturally? Can I touch your face?" So, you know, I just got the fuck up out of there. Sure, some people would see it as a harmless compliment, just a guy being nice. But I know the truth. He wanted to cut my skin off and wear it around the house. However, he would have been in for quite the disappointment, as I am not in fact a size 12.
At the same time, I have always been wary of any guy who compliments my shoes just a little too much. Because, if he's not gay, he's probably a foot fetishist. And yeah- I read Dan Savage. I know all about that "Dump an honest foot fetishist and marry a dishonest necrophilliac stuff"- but I would really like to have my cake and eat it too on this one. I don't want anyone touching my damned feet. I just don't. And besides, it's not like I'm dumping any foot fetishists- I'm stopping it before it happens. You know what they say- an ounce of prevention...
Now, some dudes just go overboard with the compliments altogether. You know the ones- you've known them for all of five minutes and all of a sudden they start telling you you're the sunshine of their life and also the greatest thing since sliced bread?
That is just so damned offensive. I honestly feel really shocked when anyone honestly thinks I am dumb enough to eat up that amount of bullshit. Now- sure, I'm awesome- it's pretty much a fact. But you have to know me for a reasonable amount of time before you understand that. I'm definitely an acquired taste, in the "George Costanza 'Byyyy... Mennen!'" way. And I'm ok with that. Also, the guy that does this is also the "relationship feigner"- another thing I am deeply offended by. See, because these dudes have the aforementioned (in the previous blog) delusion that every woman secretly wants to marry them. I mean, it's this whole "bwah hah hah! I will pretend I am interested in something more than just getting in your pants in order to get into your pants" thing. And uh, I don't need that shit. Because I don't want to be in a relationship with them. Duh. Because you're full of shit, and I know it, and you know it, but you're not swift enough to know that I know it. Which makes you stupid. And I hate stupid.
Speaking of hating stupid- ok, for some reason a lot of fella's seem to think this is an awesome line/compliment: "Wow, you're like, so much smarter than I am." And you know- while that shit may work on you all... because I know some of you still think dumb is cute... I think it's pretty icky and generally disconcerting. I like people to have more pride than that. I really think that anyone who is intimidated by me must be just the putz of the century. I also think that if I am the smartest person in any given room that we have a very dire situation on our hands and one that ought to be corrected immediately and without further ado.
So no, I do not take compliments well
Thursday, February 22, 2007
And then, today, I turn on the TV and there is Tyra Banks with a special on "Do guys really like promiscuous girls?" (complete with the Nelly Furtado song playing in the background, mind you). So there are all these girls on stage talking about how (oh my god.) they have sex. Tyra acts all concerned. Then, they bring on a bunch of guys who say things like "Yeah, well, we might sleep with you, but we wouldn't want you raising our children and we're not going to respect you" and blah blah blah. Then, they take aside the one girl that was raped when she was younger (because, as we know, women don't fuck because they like it, they do it because they're damaged) and make her cry. Because she's been a whore, but she can repent!
Can I just tell you- I live for the day where they take a bunch of men, throw them on a talk show and express concern for their sexual practices and tell them they're whores- and that what they are doing would be ok if they were women. Oh, and bring a bunch of women on the show too to tell them "Well, I might sleep with you, but I wouldn't want you raising my children and I won't respect you." And then make them cry. I fucking live for it.
I live for the day a teenage boy is taken on a talk-show because he's slept with too many girls.
I live for the article expressing concern about the effect unmarried sex will have on men (other than the "women need to stop being dirty whores so the men can stay pure" argument).
I live for a book called "She's just not that into you." Because man, do I know some fella's who could use that one.
I live to hear about the sex-ed class where girls are asked to raise their hands if they would like to marry a virgin (Yeah, there was an article recently about a sex-ed teacher in Washington who had all the boys in the class raise their hands if they wanted to marry a virgin- and of course they all did. And of course she turned to the girls and said "See!")
I also live for the television show featuring a fat woman and her supermodel husband.
I'm just so, so tired of it. First of all, all this shit contributes to those absurd delusions of grandeur men have about every woman wanting to marry them. Because, let me tell you, there is nothing more irritating and offensive than a guy you can barely tolerate for one night acting as though you're secretly trying to rope him into a lifetime of matrimonial bliss. If anything, in my life, men have always been the ones who get all relationship-y on my commitment-phobic ass- so really, I think this particular idea needs to be put to rest.
There is no longer any reason for women to be so desperately concerned about what men might think of them. I'm sorry, but we no longer live in a world where we cannot survive without them- and hell, we're proving it by *not* marrying them- look at the statistics. It's not their ball game any more. So no- they no longer get their cherished double standard of "men can fuck whomever they want and be "studs" and a woman who does it is dirty whore." Because we're not going along with it any more, no matter how many talkshows there are about it, or how many articles in the National Review. Hah.
Perhaps you were looking to add a little spice to your otherwise sexless marriage. Perhaps you were cheating on your spouses and didn't feel like splurging on a hotel room. Perhaps you were swingers hoping some hot young 20-something would see you getting it on and want in. Perhaps you've got that fetish where you want people to vomit on you, because let me tell you- I was almost there. Perhaps you think people were looking at you, not with abject horror, but jealousy- thinking "Wow! They are so totally in love and not at all nauseating in any way! I am so jealous of their deep, deep love!"
Whatever it was that you were thinking as you shoved your hands down eachothers pants, and sucking face like Romero zombies trying to get at some brains... I just want to say "Gee! Thanks!" for the clorox bleaching I'm going to have to give my retinas after being exposed to that. Really, thanks. You're a class act. For real.
Love and Kisses,
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Because they were all like "Uh, Helen- we have TV now. Americans don't *have* to read anymore, k? And we're like totally getting tired of you constantly asking questions and stuff. Like, you're always all Debbie Downer and shit, ok?" And then Helen was all like "Whatever, I don't need you bitches. All the smart people know I'm better than you any way." and they're like "Yeah, whatever, like we care- they're nerds, hello! Besides, Fox News' parents are like, way rich and totally don't care if we do beer bongs in the backyard."
Yeah, so basically, they're making Helen Thomas give up her permanent seat, so someone from some cable news program (which, lets be honest, will more than likely be FOX NEWS instead of CNN. Which, on a rare occasion, airs actual news) so we can all hear more questions like "So, uh, isn't it super great how super great the war in Iraq is going?" and "Uh, so like, who does your hair?" and "What do you think about Anna Nicole's untimely demise- ooh, and who do you think the baby daddy is?"
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
See- this is the thing that bothers me. It's not enough to make Christian movies for a Christian audience. They have to demand that secular people see and like them too (and of course, convert and repent afterwards). It's just absurd. This guy also claims to be annoyed that a secular audience doesn't get to hear enough Christian music.
It boggles the mind. I mean, if we're so damn evil, and you hate us so much, WHY OH WHY do you seek our approval so desperately? Is it just sadism?
You know, it's like all this damn country is, is just every episode of "Wife Swap" or "Trading Spouses"- like, there's the Wacky Rock and Roll secular mom, and the Uptight Christian mom. And the Christian mom, when it's her turn to decide the rules, always demands that they read the Bible and worship Jesus. What is that? Really. Just like the whole point of wanting school prayer is to make non-Christians pray to Jesus. All the political crap they do- anti-abortion, anti-gay, etc. is aimed at forcing people who don't believe in their religion to obey it's laws. That's all it is. It's not about anything else. Which is fucked up.
And like I just said in a response to Pinko Feminist Hellcat's post about so called "anti-christian bigotry"- I think a big part of this "Oh my god! We're so totally oppressed by secularists!" thing is that they are chomping at the bit to be persecuted. Because they think that after the rapture, the jesus freaks who aren't vacuumed into heaven, are all going to be beheaded by us if they don't accept "The Mark of The Beast." Which, frankly, would be kind of weird of us to do considering we don't believe in "The Beast." I mean, if we don't oppress them, we probably won't get around to beheading them, and then they don't get to be saints. God, like we don't have better things to do. I mean, I can't even get around to dropping off my dry cleaning- I don't have time to behead anyone. Oy.
Bush continues be hung up on this idea that, while we may think he's a moron now, historians in the year 2500 will think he's a genius. I don't know if he's counting on people getting dumber, or what, but I just don't see that happening. Call me crazy... but I don't know.
"I’m reading about George Washington still,” the president told reporters
at a December news conference where he defended his Iraq policy. “My attitude
is, if they’re still analyzing No. 1, 43 ought not to worry about it and just do
what he thinks is right, and make the tough choices necessary.”
Insiders say this is the book Bushy was reading:
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
Now... as someone who has always been curious as to why dildo's, vibrators and the like have to be labeled as "novelty items," this is really just the end all be all of Puritan absurdity. Or male insecurity. The thing that really gets me though- as far as the sexism in this decision goes- is that they specifically mention in the opinion that drugs for "virility" (ie: Viagra) are quite legal. The best the ladies are allowed are condoms "ribbed for her pleasure." Sweet.
But really- am I missing something here? In the opinion, they go on and on about how it's an issue of public morality and that that outweighs a right to sexual privacy (which, they are sure to let us know, really isn't a right.). I'm not actually sure what kind of public morality this is supposed to be. I mean, unless you were repeatedly beating someone over the head with "The Rabbit." Are they using vibrating underwear as a torture device down at Guantanamo? Or is the female orgasm in and of itself immoral? I really don't get it.
It really seems to me that the only "morality" Americans care about is "sexual morality." I mean, there is just no part of me that understands why there is more outrage in this country over seeing a nipple, or a woman using a dildo, or gay marriage, or an HPV vaccine, or unmarried people fucking than there is over the fact that we are in an unjust war bombing the fucking crap out of people who really didn't do anything to us. Or the fact that there's no healthcare for so many people. Or the fact that we are the "richest nation in the world" (I guess the national debt doesn't figure into that) but there are so many people here starving to death. I don't know why it's more ok for a kid to see someone's head getting blown off than it is for them to see a woman breastfeeding, or to go to a sex education class.
They are so concerned with fucking, and vicious hatred of women's bodies that no other kind of moral or ethical outrage is possible. If half of the energy devoted to trying to prevent people from having satisfying sex lives was used to take care of this country's worst off citizens, or preventing war, or protecting the environment, or human rights, or AIDS, or fuck- just making sure that every single person in the country was able to have a job that would support themselves and their family, we'd be living in a much better, and frankly, much more moral place. Or, uh, Europe, actually.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Michael/Miss Pandora Boxx- Whom I first saw on stage, dressed as Cyndi Lauper, lip syncing to "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" when I was like 16 or 17 years old. Clearly, I knew we had to be lifelong friends. Also, Michael is the creator of the unbelievably hilarious and brilliant "The Gay Means Happy Show"- which if you look to your right you can find a link to. In addition to being way hotter than I am when dressed up as a lady, and also the posessor of a variety of pageant tiaras, Michael is the one who first introduced me to the wonder that is Albolene.
Jen- My roommate, partner in crime, and dearest friend in the world, without whom I would probably go right off the deep end. Jen enjoys long walks on the beach, sunsets, and slapping strangers in the middle of the night at Walgreens and elsewhere. And yelling "God! Men! It's like they're trying not to get laid!" with me in the living room. And kitchen. Also, we share a uterus and an unrepentant love for all that is "Law and Order." Oh, and she totally wants your vote for "Wassup!'s" bartender of the month. Do it up people, she deserves it!
Jessie- Oh Miss Jessie! She's the sweet, wide eyed, enthusiastic about everything girl I never was and so many girls pretend to be. I hate these girls, but I adore Jessie because she's so absolutely genuine about it. She's also a completely kick ass writer. I first met her in my Fiction 1 class at Columbia, where I started dragging her out after class for 3 dollar veggie burgers at the Pontiac, and have been a corrupting force in her life ever since. Oh- and she can ride a horse, which is so freakin' awesome and very Elizabeth Taylor in National Velvet.
Harold- The token straight guy! Harold and I bonded at Filter over being former child prodigies with lots of useless talents and have been friends ever since. He is quite the snappy dresser and a social drinker of Hemingway-esque proportions. Also, anytime I feel like making someone do something out of the ordinary with me, such as going to Davenport's for the piano bar or a free yoga class, he's the first to volunteer- not to mention being one of the four people (including Jen) to actually show up to my flash mob pillow fight in Wicker park.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
It's because every person in this country has the same knee-jerk reaction to hearing a Mormon is coming-- which is to run upstairs and pretend you are not home. Same thing with the Jehovah's, Jews for Jesus and anyone soliciting insurance. They are out to annoy us, and we know it, and thus avoid them at all costs.
Oh, and in other coin related news (Yeah, really. It's a big day for philatelists), an ancient coin reveals that, well- Cleopatra (on the right) wasn't exactly any Elizabeth Taylor. And Marc Antony (left) wasn't much of a dreamboat either. I wonder if further investigations into the attractiveness of historic beauties will reveal the real reason Helen's face launched a thousand ships...
Yeah, we saw this when we went to Walgreen's last night and couldn't help but take a picture... because it's pretty much glorious.
A) Because it was very close to where we were, and very cold out, and
B) Because they were giving away cigarettes
Now, don't get me wrong- I've been there before and had a swell time, but last night? Well, I'm just going to tell you- I kind of felt like I needed a shower after we left. The crowd was primarily girls who- if they were not highschool freshman- were all coincidentally suffering from that disorder people have where they look like they're kids no matter how old they are (like this ), and the creepy 50 year old men who love them. Shudder. On the bright side, however, I felt very, very tall. In fact, Linday and I were both surprised to find out that we weren't standing on some kind of platform. We had to jet before I accidentally punched the long lost Olsen triplet. Oy.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
A) Vaguely reminds me of the poetry nights I used to attend back in highschool
B) Didn't Kathy Acker already do this?
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Bette Davis, Dorothy Parker, Isadora Duncan, Katherine Hepburn... darlings, I am in more than fabulous company. Unlike men, women are generally single because they are "too much" rather than "not enough." It's why you buy us drinks when you first meet us- in hopes that we will be able to be intoxicated enough to overlook the fact that really, you're no great shakes.
A girl I know recently told me that her brother said the reason she was single, was because she fit the "strong black woman" stereotype. I was genuinely taken aback to hear that this was supposed to be a bad thing. I cannot possibly think of anything more offensive than to say that being a strong woman of any color is a drawback. But at the same time... I've always been told I'm "intimidating" to men- and generally because of things I like about myself- my verbosity, my height, my ability to hold my own in a debate, the fact that I am generally well read and well informed, and, you know, the whole funny thing.
We all know that Valentines day is a ridiculous hallmark holiday specifically designed to remind us how much we all suck at life.
- I am supposed to feel bad because I am a single lady
-Non-single ladies are supposed to feel bad because their boyfriends didn't do enough
- Dudes are supposed to feel bad because their girlfriends think they didn't do enough
I'm not going to get into that.
You, my friends, will know that I have tired of the single life when I start taking Thorazine. Why?
A) Men will bore me less, and perhaps I might suddenly find fart jokes to be explicitly hilarious
B) I will be boring and somewhat brain dead myself, and thus more attractive to potential suitors, ie: less intimidating.
C) It will make me seem mentally disturbed, which will totally result in my being Scarlett eating barbecue under the oak tree.
Now, obviously, I am filled with seething contempt for Christopher Hitchens, particularly after last months Vanity Fair article about how women aren't funny (if you haven't read it, you can do so here). It made me throw things. For real. However, I will grant him one point- men... not so fond of funny women. I know this from experience. Women who think *they* are funny, yes, but not women who are competition in that department. I am reasonably sure that I know why most men have dated me- most of these reasons being either:
a) In the long run, I am cheaper than therapy or self-help seminars (Date me for a week, and you will be healed and ready to start loving psychopaths again! Satisfaction guaranteed!), or
b) I have a nice rack.
Funny has never even entered into it.
I mean, let's be honest- I don't even halfway expect them to get anything I say. I always have to explain, and then obviously it's no longer funny. I rely on my girlfriends to get my jokes. Who, by the way are each individually more hilarious than all the heterosexual men within my acquaintance combined (Or, actually, just the ones in Chicago. I know lots and lots of hilarious men from NY, but not here so much. Maybe I was just there longer and thus able to cultivate such an acquaintance, or maybe it's a regional thing, I don't know.). Yet, I can't tell you the number of times we have all heard that we are funny, smart, well read... for a girl- despite the fact that we generally trump them in these qualities.
Like my lady Dorothy Parker (who Hitchens sacrilegiously dared to say was not funny) once said:
“I had been fed, in my youth, a lot of old wives' tales about the way men would instantly forsake a beautiful woman to flock around a brilliant one. It is but fair to say that, after getting out in the world, I had never seen this happen....”
It's true. Now, I'm neither beautiful nor brilliant, but I am rather easy on the eyes and quite clever. And I have to say, in any situation- I will take being clever, and having the ability to crack myself up, than giving that up to suit the needs of insecure men. I have always been able to entertain myself better than they have anyhow, darlings.
Also- I cannot even begin to discuss the myriad ways Mr. Catface is better than almost any man I have been with. He never wants to have "talks"- he doesn't get personally offended when I pet other cats, he doesn't expect me to be jealous when someone else pets him and then get irritable when I'm not, and frankly, he just has more to say about life.