I thought I wanted an apple cinnamon muffin, but it turns out I want to eat a baby

Oh Christ. I thought/hoped I was hallucinating the other night when this thing popped on the telly:



Via http://www.videogum.com/


Really? Baby hungry? Baby hungry? Ew. I don't know a single "single girl" that doesn't screech in horror or throw up in her mouth at the mere mention of child bearing/rearing, so I do not know where you are getting your information from, Mr. Dude I've Never Heard of Before, but I suspect that you might be the delusional one here.

Yeah, we're all totally after your super high quality sperm, there. I dream of the day when I might drop a mucus plug and squeeze out a nine pound demon child with my eyes and your hairplugs. Also, I want to be your girlfriend and subsequently marry you, despite the fact that you are basically terrible in every way possible. You know, because you've got a penis and all. Everything else is just gravy.

Oh, and also, I'm Cathy. Ack! And I love shoes! And chocolate! And talking about my weight! And, um, whatever else the womenfolk are into these days! Ack! Marry me!

See, this is the thing- women are just not like this any more- not the vast majority anyway- and at least no one I personally know. To tell me to stop being desperate for a man and baby hungry is in the same league as telling me to stop speaking German and wearing leiderhosen all the time. In fact, as a whole, I think we're way better at being independent than men are. And I think that's a kick in the balls to some dudes who might prefer that we were not.

I don't think that the weirdo who tells me he's not "ready for a relationship" after two dates really thinks that that's what I'm after- I think it's wishful thinking. Not that I'm such great shakes, but I think he would like to assume that pretty much any lady in town would be thrilled to pieces to have him all to herself, or to bear the fruit of his loins or whatever. It's nothing but blowing smoke up your own ass.

It seems as though certain men are trying to create a strawwoman narrative that just isn't there anymore. It's a narrative more flattering to themselves than based in reality. And despite the fact that shows like this, and books/movies like "He's Just Not That Into You" claim to be intended to show women how to not be pathetic, they seem to be more hung up on creating perpetuating the idea that this is what we are in the first place - and that we, of course, need a brilliant, tough lovin' dude to show us the error of our sad little ways.

In which I take issue with Madame Butterfly.

(I would issue a spoiler alert... but I'm sure you don't really care)

I fucking love Madame Butterfly. I do. Seriously, everytime I listen to Un Bel di Vedremo, I sob. And I am totally not a cryer.

Ok, so let me get this straight-Butterfly is "married" to this douche nozzle Captain Pinkerton who is all "Sweet! I'll have a good time when I'm here with Butterfly, and then I can just dump her ass and not even have to officially divorce her!" And that's what he does. He leaves her ass for 3 years, and doesn't come back until he finds out she's had his kid. He comes back with Wife 2.0, a fellow American, and then they demand that she give them the baby. In fact, at first, he just sends Wife 2.0 over to get it, because he's too much of a pussy to do it himself.

And then instead of cutting their faces, she gives them the baby! She changes the kids name from "Sorrow" to "Joy," and then she kills herself.

Fuck. That. Shit.

Totally don't get it. It makes me sad, yes- but I totally, in no way, understand the logic behind it. I do not know how that thought process works. I am right now making the face that I would make were some asshat actually have the balls to act like that, and then demand I give him my fucking kid. It's not pretty. It's very incredulous looking. I can't fathom the day when anyone would even have the cajones to try and pull that shit with me. Balls on a silver platter, motherfucker.