Wednesday, January 30, 2008

The Unknown STD

So, apparently every time I sleep with that guy, I get tonsillitis. WTF? He wasn't even sick after last time--I asked--so why am I once again sitting at home barely able to swallow*?

At least no UTI this time.

UPDATE: Not tonsillitis. But it might be MONO. Jeez.

NEW UPDATE: Got test results. It's not ANYTHING. I guess I was just sick.


*tee hee

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Tuesday, January 29, 2008

C U Next Tuesday (This Tuesday)

I CANNOT tell you why I was thinking of this today, but: I love the word cunt. I wish I could remember the moment when I first learned the word. (It may well have been from my mom.) While I basically think women can use it with impunity (haven't totally thought that through yet, there might be exceptions), I was wondering to myself what the circumstances are in which it's acceptable, to me, for a guy to use the word. Any guy I actually know can probably use it with impunity-- I think they've earned the right. If you're my friend you probably have credentials as a non-misogynist--perhaps you need them to even WANT to be my friend, if that's not self-aggrandizing. And I can imagine, again under certain circumstances, a guy I've just met actually endearing himself to me by saying "cunt," but thinking about it I'd have to already like him.

Here is my favorite instance of a guy saying the word:

In 2004, when the RNC was in New York, my friend Jake and I went to a trivia night at a bar downtown. We joined the team of these four boisterous Australian guys and this one woman from Texas. They were all very nice, but the Aussies were giving the woman a (friendly) hard time, I suppose because she was blonde and was showing (seasonally appropriate) cleavage, decorated by a cross pendant. While she and I had gotten into a little conversation about our differing views on reproductive rights, we were both respectful and listened to each other so I bore her no ill will, and felt a little annoyed at the Aussies on her behalf. So I leaned over to her and said, "You should just say the word 'cunt.' That always shuts guys up."

This was the wrong thing to say.

She was deeply taken aback, and insisted that if I had self-respect I would never use that word. I could NOT seem to get us out of this conversation--I tried to argue that I was coming from a different context (no man had ever called me that in anger), so while I understood her discomfort with the word, it had different ramifications to me. Et cetera. But she would brook no dissent. She was appalled that I would use the word and kept trying to talk me out of it, and I was a little too surprised to realize I should just change the subject. This went on until it was finally time to leave, and as soon as we hit the pavement, Jake said:

"That woman was a cunt."

And I remembered why I have loved Jake since 8th grade.

Of course, it's not all wine and cunty roses. I have one boy-related cunt anecdote that still makes me kind of upset, but it's not the standard kind. In high school, I was on the fencing team. It was co-ed--our league play was divided by gender, but in practices we all fenced each other, so it was really like one team. We had this one away game where the judge HATED us. Don't know why, but she made all sorts of bullshit calls to our detriment, I'm pretty sure we lost and we were all really pissed. Afterwards, while we hung around waiting for the coach to herd us back on the bus, she passed by us. We glared silently, and once she was out of earshot I said, "Cunt."

There was this guy on the team. He was the child of someone famous and seemed to pride himself on being an asshole, but he was smart and often funny so I liked and respected him alright. He stared at me and said, with great authority, "Girls can't say that word!"

I was stunned, I said nothing. But that was the prevailing high school attitude--BOYS could use the word (though they didn't much) but not me. Which, I suppose, is why so many of us feel that it's empowering to reclaim it. Lots of men think of it as the worst thing you can possibly call a woman* and, at least to obnoxious adolescents and their ilk, the idea that a girl might steal it from them, might be as vulgar as boys were allowed to be, might have the power not to be ashamed of their own anatomy, is truly horrifying. Not just horrifying: it infringes on their territory, robs them of their weapons. Who are these uppity bitches thinking they can take what's ours? This guy knew what he was doing, but he also meant what he said. Back then I knew what I believed but had no idea how to explain it, even to myself, so shocked silence and a profound feeling of betrayal--he was my teammate, I'd thought we were in this together--were the only responses I had at my disposal. These days I would probably just say, "cunt cunt cunt cuntycunt cunt."

All that being said, at this point it's just a word. A word I like a lot. I don't think I'm taking a feminist stand each time I use it--and
, now that I think of it, I tend to save it for when it is really the perfect word--but the fact that it has this Reclaimed By Feminists status makes it less awful to say in other contexts. I might refer to someone as a cunt, but since I like the word, and after all cunt means vagina, it doesn't seem that harsh to me. It's stronger, and perhaps more specific, than calling someone a dick, but it's in the same family. Also, in the realm of the physical, I hugely prefer it to "pussy." In addition to being a really silly-sounding word, "pussy" seems to describe an object, something that is done unto--"cunt" is always a subject, something that takes on the doing itself, thankyouverymuch. I've relaxed on my revulsion towards "pussy"--mostly now I think of it in terms of the actual anatomy, probably due to a stage manager I worked with who asked, "how's your pussy?" when I had a UTI, and once advised me to roll my boxer shorts down a little "towards your pussy." So it took on the anatomical meaning, and cunt was the sexual beast between my legs. But, what with some guys' understandable reluctance to say "cunt" to a woman in bed, I'm pretty much fine with both. But cunt will always be more fun to say.

And I love guys who love when I say it. I had a long flirtation with someone at college (I do wish he'd just made out with me at some point, but I think of him fondly nonetheless) who was pretty cool--he for one thing thought it was hot that I'd played rugby. (When he found this out he got a grin on his face and said euphemistically, "That's...pretty cute.") Anyway, we ran into each other towards the end of our senior year when we were both wrapping up our theses and I asked if he'd finished yet. He said yes, so I shook my head at him in mock jealousy and said, in a low voice, "Yooouuu cunt." He said, "Did you just call me a cunt?!" I had, and he laughed. "That's awesome."

I agreed.


*Which it might well be, again it's all contextual.

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Monday, January 28, 2008

Things I Did This Weekend

-Acted like a total crazy person and committed several elementary blogging faux pas, the evidence of which has been expurgated.
-Cried about being a crazy person. (Three times.)
-Apologized for same. (I hope sufficiently.)
-Flirted.
-Got laid! My good ol' deflowerer called me up and we had a lovely time. Dearest Sojourner is totally right about the importance of a "winter spoon"--I'd forgotten how great it is to have a warm naked man in your bed on an icy cold day!
-As a result, at least partially got over the need to make a conquest of the famed Guy I Shouldn't Fuck. I needed at any cost to get laid, or at least make out, even if I knew it was a bad idea.* But now I've had my Sex That Goes Nowhere, so I'm a little less driven to distraction. And Nowhere Man is out of sight/mind--at this point, if Nowhere Man were someone I had to see all the time, I'd probably get depressed. It sucks always being back at Square One.
-That being said, I have no will power (see: me being a crazy person). So we'll see what happens.
-Fell on first sight for yet another skinny guy in glasses, this one theatre-affiliated. We smiled at each other! Baby photos to come.
-Tried to explain to a friend why I cared if anyone thought I was a slut. Did a bad job.
-Had a totally good time at a party I was angsty about.
-Fell in love with a specific bagel, but that's really not so interesting.

Now, hopefully, I can start posting anything of substance.

*As I told Sojourner: "My two main orifices are screaming for me to step on the gas; it's just the rest of me that's whining about the speed limit."

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Friday, January 25, 2008

In Case You're Keeping Score

I have cried at my desk twice this week: once for Heath Ledger, once for my own confusing* existence.

TGIF!


*::cough::pathetic::cough::

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Reassurance

Here is a gchat conversation I had this morning:

me: I find myself posting about my life in ways that have nothing to do with feminism
Michelle:
i think that's a) okay; b) not unexpected; and c) not entirely true
me:
ok, good

I'm about to post a, well, post about how much I hate [redacted]
which I'm also not sure about
Michelle: i will quote you to yourself:
me: ha!
Michelle: 'What I really aim to do here is chronicle what it's like, on a day-to-day basis, being a young feminist in New York and in "today's world"'
so i think that even if the "Here Is My Feminist Point!!" doesn't quite exist in any given post
it's still part of the chronicle.
me: great
thank you
Michelle: [smile]
me: that was an excellent pep talk!
it helped that you quoted me
because I heart me

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Thursday, January 24, 2008

Drunken Blogging

Well, not actually. In fact, I wish. Tonight was beyond a let-down. I went to the Usual Bar with, literally, condoms in my back pocket. I WAS PREPARED FOR BATHROOM SEX. I was expecting to see Guy I Shouldn't Fuck--there was a small event, supposedly--but he didn't show. He'd Facebook RSVPed for chrissake! Is nothing sacred??? I hadn't decided it was full-on Sexy Time, but I was cruising for at least some covert smooches, and I'd made the bed and done some "personal grooming" just in case. All for naught. Not only was GISF not in attendance, my usual go-to barflies had been there 'till 4 a.m. the night before and were understandably not answering their phones, and everyone else in the area was either working or in bed*.

So I'm nursing my Newcastle, when the cute AWOL dude's onerous roommate walks in. Of course. The last time we were both in the bar together, my roommate attested that he was totally making eyes at me the whole time, which means he is a ridiculous social retard with whom I want nothing to do. So, obviously, he sits down next to me and we chat. I'm half-hoping he'll make a move so I can be mean to him, but if he had his act together enough to make a move we wouldn't even be in this situation, so no luck there**. I take two sips of my second drink and go home to watch my cat have an awesome fucking time with a piece of wire and some cardboard. I wish I were so easily satisfied.

I'm sure there is some lesson or moral here. Actually, I'm not sure of that at all, but I feel guilty writing about myself without having a larger point. Perhaps it is that some people just don't know how to behave themselves, and one is better off without them. Perhaps it is that one should only get pedicures for one's own enrichment, and not in anticipation of a non-guaranteed hook-up. (Fortunately, a pedicure is pretty much ALWAYS self-enriching.) Perhaps it is that one should never restrict one's dating pool, and I need to find a new bar.

Or perhaps I should just try fuckin JDate. Oh woe.



*At 10 P.M.! That is an outrageous hour for both of those activities.
**To be fair, I was making a conscious effort NOT to touch my hair or send any other IOIs, and mostly had my hand over my mouth, which I'd heard on the radio once was body language for "Do Not Enter."

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Friday, January 18, 2008

Addendum

Feministing just posted their response to the Matthews apology. They were even more upset than I, though they agreed that the apology would've been fine if he'd actually just made the one comment. However, they cited another Horrible Thing He Said that I hadn't heard, and it really pisses me off:

  • In an interview with John and Elizabeth Edwards: "Behind every great man is a woman trying to kill him... What's this with equal marriages? Why do people try to marry their equals? What happened to the Stepford Wives, the good ol' days? [Audience boos.] Oh, how PC! How PC!"
What. The Fuck. How did that go unnoticed?

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Better Than Nothing

Breaking news in Matthewsgate! Chris Matthews went on air and sorta-apologized for his ridiculous sexism. Media Matters has the video and transcript. I appreciate the apology, and it's pretty well-reasoned...except that it's based on the notion that Matthews only said one objectionable thing. He pretends that the uproar is in response to his comment that "the reason [Hillary Clinton]'s a U.S. senator, the reason she's a candidate for president, the reason she may be a front-runner is her husband messed around. That's how she got to be senator from New York. We keep forgetting it. She didn't win there on her merit."

It's nice that he doesn't pretend the statement was taken out of context or some bullshit--he says that, upon reflection, that last bit was not only gravely insulting but factually incorrect. He likens Clinton's marriage troubles to McCain's POW history, which in the context makes some sense (even though they are obviously of very different quality and calibre). Matthews had forgotten that 2000 was not so long ago and most people REMEMBER that election, so, yeah--he certainly had to deal with the consequences of his statement. And, as I said, he didn't do the blame-dodging bullshit-excuse thing that is so ubiquitous these days, which is appreciated.

But: come on man, you said a lot of other objectionable shit. True, this final comment got the most attention, because in addition to being hugely sexist it had the added benefit of being totally fucking untrue, whereas the other things qualify as off-the-cuff misogyny, which is not exactly rare. He has casually flung out the casually sexist memes that undermine any woman who dares to pursue a leadership position. He has done his best to lower the level of debate and to tar, if unconsciously, all women with the same brush. I'm sure his words will be recycled for years to come.

In summation: Thanks for the apology. Now where's the restof the fucking apology?

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Thursday, January 17, 2008

Quote(s) Of The Day

All this talk of repartee has me looking up Mae West quotes. Some of my favorites:

Good sex is like good bridge... If you don't have a good partner, you'd better have a good hand.

Every man I meet wants to protect me. I can't figure out what from.

When I'm good I'm very, very good, but when I'm bad, I'm better.

I never worry about diets. The only carrots that interest me are the number you get in a diamond.

Ten men waiting for me at the door? Send one of them home, I'm tired.

And, of course, the best truths are the simplest ones:

A hard man is good to find.

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Formal Apology

Writing this blog (and, probably, reading Slut Machine's blog) has instilled in me a nigh irresistible urge to tell all my friends every detail of my sex-slash-love life. Usually on gchat, while they're at work. Usually the stuff that I don't even feel comfortable posting here. As I've said, I have no idea if they're actually interested. Sometimes they do not respond at all and I go, "I am totally boring this person." And then I go, "Unless they're just distracted by the JOB for which they are getting PAID and thus do not have time to say 'HA' and 'cool' in between every three things I write."

So, if I am in fact burdening anyone out there with the blow-by-blow* of my sex life, I officially apologize.



*Tee hee!

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Oh The Conundrum

Repartee with my flirting buddy about his penis size has got me trying to plan something witty to say for when* I actually see his penis. "Witty" meaning clever, sexy, and preferably complimentary. Mae Westesque, perhaps. This is a totally moronic thing to be thinking about, but I feel we've set the bar high and I want to live up to any expectations we may have formed.

Suggestions are welcome.

UPDATE: "Your problems are not like other people's." ~My friend Alden


*Shit, I'm jinxing it!

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Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Chicks I Like

(Cuz why not, right?)

As an avid reader of Jezebel, I have of late fallen totally in love with Editor Tracie "Slut Machine" Egan.


(Pictured here with Dr. Ruth, whom she accosted at a Cosi.)

Yes, she posts under the name "Slut Machine," and yes, she is awesome. After I'd already started to fall, I finally realized that in the stupid "Jezebel Moe says she's not a feminist" thing, Slut Machine was the official feminist. Which is when I was like, "Oh, not only is she awesome for slutty reasons, but also for theory reasons." But whatever, back to the slutty stuff.

I've only just recently started reading her own blog, One D At A Time. (It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize what the D stood for.) First of all, I'm totally jealous of the fact that she talks about her sex life the way I wish I could. I was of course jealous of the sex she was having, and I like that she dated the founder of Burning Angels because a Burning Angels performer once spent an evening at a club telling me and my hot indie rocker guy friend that I was gorgeous and should be on the site*. But then just now I read an old entry in which it is revealed that she has lived the goddamn FANTASY OF MY LIFE, namely fucking two hot British guys at once. Sure, her encounter didn't actually go that well, but the fact that she made it happen thoroughly makes her my idol.

That being said, why is it that all the cool sluts do coke? I will never in my life do coke, for various reasons, and I'm wondering if that's what's required to attain the status of ladies such as Slut Machine and Lisa Carver. Does Rev. Jen Miller do drugs? I don't know, that might be worth finding out. (Um, why would that be worth finding out?)

Anyway, I hope you guys come to love Slut Machine as much as I do, if you don't already. Wow, that was a lot of internal links!

*This actually caused me to buy a short-term membership to the site, and then I saw on her blog that she supported Bush and I lost my taste for it.

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Not To Be "Uppity" Or "Castrating"

Maybe you guys are sick of my Chris Matthews reports, but today Jezebel linked to Daily Kos, which has a post summing up all the horrible things Chris Matthews has said about women. Okay, probably not ALL of them, but many, and some about women OTHER than Clinton, in case we thought that his misogyny was just anti-Clintonism in disguise. Check it out.

(My favorites are when he wonders if the troops would take orders from her, and the gem, "[S]he was giving a campaign barn-burner speech, which is harder to give for a woman; it can grate on some men when they listen to it -- fingernails on a blackboard, perhaps.")

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Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Gender, Booze, And Song

More karaoke last night, this time at the Bar We Always Go To--they're now doing it once a month. It was fun, and I sang "Wicked Game" (now one of my standard jams), which went over well partially because it's perfect for my voice, but also the MC said she'd never heard a woman sing that song. She seemed quite impressed--she mentioned it several times. Later, Guy Who Blew Me Off* complimented me on the choice.

I then chatted with Guy I Shouldn't Hook Up With** about the fact that I drink whiskey and that this makes me cool. I confided in him that I decided (years ago) that I would train myself to like whiskey in order to impress boys...and that it was way easier than I expected and now Jack on the rocks is my favorite drink, which is slightly unfortunate because it's not as cheap as well vodka.

The point being: yay, hooray, for occasionally feeling that minor manifestations of my gender issues can be appealing to other people. For while singing sultry male songs and drinking macho drinks makes ME feel sexy, and is SUPPOSED to make other people think I'm sexy, I rarely have a clue how things actually play out.

Or is it laughable that I think of singing Chris Isaak and drinking whiskey as expressions of gender identity?


*He needs a better nickname. I still think of him as Monday Guy but since we hooked up a month ago that no longer really makes sense.
**There were way too many Persons of Interest at this bar last night, but that's a different story.

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Dudes I Like: Op-Ed Style

At last, an Op-Ed we can all get behind! Roommate Katey brought this one to my attention--it is, of course, by Bob Herbert:
...who is probably the Best Person with a Times Op-Ed column (next to Kristof, I guess, but he's a serious do-gooder). Today's topic: politics and misogyny. But he's not talking about everyone's attacks on Clinton--he's talking about how politicians (including Hill) don't address or do anything about the gross misogyny that pervades society.

This is not the first time that Herbert has used his column to decry misogyny in areas where others ignore it. I really appreciated his piece after the Virginia Tech tragedy about how misogyny is integral to many such shootings. Herbert is very attuned to prejudice in our society--especially the kinds that most people regard as subtle or ingrained but that should be considered, by any reasonable society, obviously outrageous. He never pits gender against race, and his writing on both subjects (among others) is among the clearest, most disciplined there is to be found these days.

This column, like many of his, is a little 101, and Herbert's take on pornography and prostitution is not nuanced. But his passionate, straightforwardly expressed belief that women are NOT second-class citizens and objects of degradation always gives one hope, even in the face of the most distressing news about rape, murder, and humiliation.

Bob, there should be more like you.

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Monday, January 14, 2008

But More Importantly, Let's Talk About Me

Enough of this politics crap, am I right? You all want to know what's going down with Susan B. So, a recap:

-I'm leaving my job at the end of the month. Which totally means I should finally ask out my workplace crush, and I totally won't.
-Goddamn he is dreamy. His smile is Obama-calibre, but with the addition of crinkly, twinkly eyes.
-Due to the anxiety caused by quitting my job, I've been smoking pot every night just to fall asleep. Which basically works, though I am kept up an extra hour by the fact that the pot makes me really horny, and I am visited by visions of the non-sugarplum variety. Last night it was S&M fantasies of surprising ferocity.
-Karaoke birthday party was this weekend. My dad got adorably trashed, took the mic, and sang along with every song. Even ones he didn't know. Even "Let Me Blow Ya Mind." I've discovered my new jam, and it is "Special" from Avenue Q.
-I'm mentally preparing myself for a party two weeks from now at which way too many Guys I've Slept With will probably be present. I attempted to secure a female beard*, to no avail. So instead I'm going to re-wear my birthday party dress, which should honestly do the trick in terms of not feeling like a self-conscious tool.
-My longish-distance friend and I have vowed that we will not see each other again until we once again look as skinny as we do in my Facebook profile photo. I have yet to formulate any strategies for achieving this goal, but Time Out New York recommends chasing pigeons.
-Having been blown off by that guy I made out with has for some reason awoken the old urge to have sex with someone random in some bathroom somewhere. And the night I started having these thoughts, the Guy I Flirt With But Should Totally Not Hook Up With made a joke about us having sex in the bathroom, so I'm seriously in trouble. Also, he is the first guy's roommate.
-It occurs to me that the reason the encounter has triggered these thoughts is that this guy was supposed to be a fix-up and total Boyfriend Material, and since that was a flop I'm kind of going, "Screw you, guys who are Boyfriend Material! This scene is lame-and-a-half! I'm out of here!" And the roommate, I'm told, doesn't date Jews, which is maybe what makes him appealing because I know upfront how things would go**.
-Also, after a disturbingly long time not doing so, I've started masturbating again, and I realized I haven't posted much on masturbation so I should probably get on that.
-This guy I hooked up with forever ago, and hate for various reasons (I NEVER hate guys for simply not wanting to date me, but there were some serious Circumstances here) found out that I hate him, and now doesn't want to be around me, and at first I felt really bad and pathetic about this but then I learned more about how he discovered I hated him and I felt better because it was sort of exactly how I hoped it would happen. I am SO not used to these long-term vindictive feelings but I guess it happens to plenty of people at some point.

That's all for now.


*Cuz a male beard would just be pathetic!
**Not to imply that I could actually get this guy's pants off. Let's not jinx things.

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More On Moore

The Carpetbagger Report has a good response to the Lorrie Moore op-ed, and actually found the statistics. Steve M., the guest poster, makes a few excellent points I missed:

So, yes, one out of every nine boys drops out, which is appalling in what’s supposed to be the greatest country in the world — but if “only” one out every eleven girls drops out, it’s not as if we have that problem all sorted out, is it?

and:

...yes, the black dropout rate is noticeably higher than the white dropout rate, but the Hispanic dropout rate is twice as high as the black rate. Doesn’t that mean we should have all abandoned our support of Clinton and Obama and rallied behind Bill Richardson?

(And isn't the highest drop-out demographic pregnant teens? Are we allowed to vote for Clinton if she gets knocked up?) And finally:

We can parse this all day, but as I read it, blacks have crumbs, women have a somewhat larger supply of crumbs, and white men still run most of everything. So why pit blacks and women against each other?

Why indeed.

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No, Really, Actually The Greatest Thing Ever

Roommate Katey just sent me an email saying: "This is like when my rat-owning, culinary-school bound friend Jenny finally got to see Ratatouille." The email included the best fucking link I've ever been sent:

"FilmSchoolRejects talked to author Shauna Cross, whose book 'Derby Girl' is being turned into a movie titled Whip It. Drew Barrymore is making her feature directorial debut on the pic, which is targeted for a March start. This is how the book is described:

Meet Bliss Cavendar, a blue haired, indie-rock loving misfit stuck in the tiny town of Bodeen, Texas.

Her pageant-addicted mother expects her to compete for the coveted Miss Blue Bonnet crown, but Bliss would rather feast on roaches than be subjected to such rhinestone tyranny.

Bliss' escape? Take up Roller Derby.
[OMG OMG OMG. --Ed.]

When she discovers a league in nearby Austin, Bliss embarks on an epic journey full of hilarious tattooed girls, delicious boys in bands, and a few not-so-awesome realities even the most bad-assed derby chick has to learn.


So who is possibly in talks about playing Bliss? According to Cross it's an actress whose name rhymes with 'Shmellen Shmage.' She's of course referring to Juno star Ellen Page."

So, yeah, I might as well have gotten this letter:

Dear Susan B.,
I made this for you.
Love,
Drew Barrymore

Roller derby. Plus. Ellen Page. With Blue Hair. They might not even fuck it up!

(The best part might be that they felt the need to clarify whom "Shmellen Shmage" meant.)

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New Times Op-Ed Inadvertantly Supports Steinem Op-Ed

Yesterday's New York Times featured an op-ed by novelist Lorrie Moore titled "Last Year's Role Model," the basic thesis of which is: "The political moment for feminine role models, arguably, has passed us by."

Um, yeah...first of all, Lorrie, "feminine" is different than "female," so I'm not really sure what you think you're saying there. From the context it seems you mean "female," in which case...false. Or rather, what the fuck is that supposed to even mean? It would be one thing if Moore were trying to say that political interest in female role models has waned--which anyway would be contradicted by the recent increase in female political role models such as Rice and Polosi, whatever you might think of them. But based on her subsequent argument, she seems to be saying that female political role models are actually unnecessary-- that they are, in fact, totes lame.

The first big piece of evidence for this is that boys of color are suffering more academically. This is clearly true, but...shit, let me just bullet-point all the problems with this argument:

•Um, I think women still maybe have any other problems in society, like, at all. Yknow, one or two.
•Moore argues that the American educational system was "designed by and for white girls." Wanna back that up with any evidence, or maybe explain it in some way? Some sub-points:

  • Boys may outperform girls but these statistics only reflect the past 20 years and Moore herself is framing this as a recent trend, thus negating the idea that this is a flaw in the "design" of the system.
  • Using these statistics in this manner in no way takes into account other societal influences that discourage scholastic achievement for boys--especially boys of color. It's not a flaw in the design of the system that boys are expected to apply themselves. It's a flaw in society that boys are expected to care more about sports. (Or gangs. Or boobs. Or whatever else it is that is way more important than English class.)
  • Indeed, it is well-documented that the average classroom environment is biased strongly towards boys.
  • What about black girls? Oh right, they don't exist.
•Actually, that merits its own bullet. BLACK GIRLS EXIST.
•It is kind of a leap to assume that having a black President will encourage all boys of color to study harder--and asserting that this is true undermines the notion that it is the design of the educational system that puts boys at a disadvantage. So all they need to do is apply themselves, and then the system's cool?

Then there's a bunch of general "blacks have it worse than chicks" stuff: "The sexes have always lived together, but the races have not." Which is true--so then why have we not had a female President? Why is the Senate still a mere 16% female? (An improvement from my childhood--and Lisa Simpson's--when it was 2%, but come on, we're half the fucking population.) Also, she likens Clinton's failed health plan to Guiliani's moronic placement of the Crisis Command Center in the WTC, against all sane council he received. Which totally makes sense, cuz Hillary's health care plan totally killed a bunch of people.

This piece is a perfect complement to Steinem's, for two reasons. One, it supports her main point that to a lot of people, sexism is sooooo not a big deal. Two, it's the exact same stupid thing Steinem was doing--falsely and detrimentally casting this election in terms of Race vs. Gender, and making up nonsense for the sake of touting the candidate of one's choice. Steinem likes Clinton. Moore likes Obama. All's fair in love and politics!

Oh, and also: black girls exist.

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Reposting My Comment From Feministing

(For the record.)

"To be honest, I think the race-vs-gender thing is a media fiction. Which is horrifying, but I think real people--actual non-pundit voters--are considering the candidates rather than the candidates' demographics. It's a shame we're being so misrepresented.

As for Steinem...I defended her on my blog, since I believe she had a valid point or two that got buried in the pro-Clintonism and general nonsense, but the more I think about it the more racist and ageist it is."

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Friday, January 11, 2008

Fun Friday Thought

Gentle readers, life is hard. But remember: no matter how bad things get, at least you aren't unwittingly married to your own twin.

Well, unless you are...

[Via Jezebel.]

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Thursday, January 10, 2008

Can I Be RE-Outraged?

I confess: until just now, I hadn't actually watched the footage of Hillary Clinton's famed emotional moment. Give me a break, I can't watch videos at work (like, the computer actually won't LET me). Anyway, I finally did, and am even more astounded that this was labeled in any way as "crying." Oh my god. Have you seen this? I'd read on trusted blogs that she hadn't actually cried, but seriously--THIS IN NO WAY WAS ANYTHING LIKE CRYING. She didn't even sniffle! I want to go back in time so I could've been more FULLY incensed when this whole stupid thing went down.

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Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Awesome Cutting And Pasting

Feministing has this, and it's awesome, and I'm just going to tell you what it is:

* Drink anytime someone refers to Clinton's teary moment in NH as "crying," "sobbing," "weepy," or "contrived."

* Take a drink for every "magical negro" reference to Obama.

* Take one drink anytime someone calls Clinton "shrill" or "screechy."

* Chug one whenever you hear of, see, or read Maureen Dowd. Always.

* Two drinks anytime anyone expresses the sentiment that Edwards is at a disadvantage because he isn't black or female.

* Take a shot when a pundit refers to Clinton as (or implies she is) a nagging bitch or cackling witch.

* Drink for any lamenting that white-dude voters are being ignored.

* Take a healthy gulp every time someone describes Obama as "clean" or "articulate."

* Take two shots whenever someone implies that women only vote with their vaginas.

* Warning: Do not watch Chris Matthews under any circumstances--doing so could induce alcohol poisoning.

But you should go look at the original post because I'm too lazy to recreate all the internal links.

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In Case You're Interested

Feministing has a "24-Hour Hillary Sexism Watch," and here is a particularly teeth-gnash-inducing post.

And don't worry, they hated Steinem's Op-Ed.

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A Cheerier Note

I meant to say this before:

In addition to getting farklempt over My Mom Clinton winning New Hampshire, I was basically really happy all last night because of these two historic evenings we've just had. A black man and a woman have each won one of the two most hyped primaries in our nation's history. I think it's truly important that they each took one--perhaps this is Obama-eqsue idealism, but I believe that this has opened the door to both demographics. Women and African-Americans are officially viable candidates, whatever else happens.

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A Break From All This Serious Shit

I wonder if there's any correlation between enjoying sexual masochism and enjoying spicy food. Have any studies been done on this? The pleasurablity of spicy food is related to the endorphins released in response to pain, and while this is surely not the only reason many people like S&M, it no doubt has an effect. So, are subs more likely to like spicy food than the general population?

(Ha ha get it???)


So, yeah, these are the things I think about when I have turkey chili for lunch.

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Fuckin' A

Now Chris Matthews is saying that Clinton IS ONLY A US SENATOR BECAUSE PEOPLE FELT BAD THAT HER HUSBAND CHEATED ON HER. Check out the clip at Wonkette.

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Picking A Pony

I've talked before about my mixed Clinton-related feelings. Well, they've changed. Kind of. Yes, I too have gotten swept up in Obamamania. It's hard not to. But last night I was reminded that I've been loving Hillary since I was 10 years old. I grew up on her. Watching Hillary's acceptance speech, I actually choked up a little. My reaction was basically, "Oh look, my mom's running for President. My mom would be an AWESOME President!"

I'm over my lame trust issues, and now it truly is down to electability. This issue is two-fold: Hillary arguably being not-so-electable, and Obama arguably being super-electable. If you'd seen nothing but the speeches last night, you could well have thought that he had won. Though his speech didn't really have any content (do any of them at this point?), it was undeniably inspiring. He's a superb orator. He might actually unite rather than divide--though honestly, do we want that? Wouldn't we rather be divided but winning? But I digress.

I wish people would stop talking about Hillary's unelectability. Not because they're wrong, or because it's not a valid issue, but solely because, well, it makes me sad. It irritates me the same way as when people criticize Juno even in the slightest--I want to cover my ears and scream "CHANGE THE SUBJECT CHANGE THE SUBJECT!"

Which means that this post is not actually as substantive as I'd intended, because I don't really feel like thinking about the many reasons why nominating Clinton could potentially be a bad idea. Maybe I'll return to this subject later. The bottom line is, I am officially torn. I have no idea whom I'm voting for in a few weeks. I love Hillary, and while I don't think she's UNelectable, I think Obama's hard for any Republican to outcharm.

Sigh.

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In Defense Of Steinem. (Mostly.)

Yeah, so, many of you have by now read Gloria Steinem's NYTimes Op-Ed piece about sexism and Hillary Clinton. Many people have had problems with it. This was my reaction after the first read: "She's basically right, except for the part where all this means that everyone should vote for Clinton." I would say I "mostly liked it."

Not that we shouldn't vote for Clinton. (More on that to come.) And if we ignore that paragraph, and pay attention to her other points, there's a lot to embrace. I have long held that sexism is the last acceptable "ism"--even among young, liberal, well-educated people like me and my friends*. Steinem seems to agree:

So why is the sex barrier not taken as seriously as the racial one? The reasons are as pervasive as the air we breathe: because sexism is still confused with nature as racism once was; because anything that affects males is seen as more serious than anything that affects “only” the female half of the human race... and because there is still no “right” way to be a woman in public power without being considered a you-know-what.

The evidence is everywhere--but because we're so bombarded with it, it's easy to shrug off even the most overt examples. And that's what I'm talking about: explicit sexism. Sexism is not necessarily more prevalent than racism, but being overtly sexist is way more acceptable. Sexism is mainstream. Take my Chris Matthews examples below: could you imagine him saying, "Do you find it difficult to debate a black man?" Far more egregious is the instance in Salem, New Hampshire from a few days ago: at a Clinton rally, a young man stood up and started yelling, over and over, "Iron my shirt!" He had a big yellow sign that also bore the slogan. Imagine if someone had stood up at an Obama rally and shouted, "Pick my cotton!" It would've been a huge event. There might have been violence. It certainly would've gotten media attention, whereas this event was ignored in favor of Clinton "crying**."

Perhaps the simplest example--which won me some supporters at a bar last night--is the question "Do you think a woman can be as effective a President as a man?" This question is being debated on Facebook. WTF? Think for a second. Can you actually imagine someone asking, "Do you think a black person can be as effective a President as a white person?" If you can imagine someone asking that, the person you are imagining probably not only has a Confederate flag tattoo, but would also actually say, "I hate black people." To ask a question like that, you have to be an avowed racist.

I'd been planning on talking about this for awhile--in the context of how it's okay for a movie to be sexist--but the issue's really come to a head. And while I DON'T agree with Steinem that it's cool to support Clinton because she's a woman (and this "on-the-job training" argument makes me uncomfortable for various reasons), what she says about the media's treatment of her is almost all undeniably true:

[W]hat worries me is that [Obama] is seen as unifying by his race while she is seen as divisive by her sex... What worries me is that she is accused of “playing the gender card” when citing the old boys’ club, while he is seen as unifying by citing civil rights confrontations... What worries me is that male Iowa voters were seen as gender-free when supporting their own, while female voters were seen as biased if they did and disloyal if they didn’t.

Steinem offers a few reasons for all this, which may or may not be valid. I mentioned the ubiquity of sexism, and how it's desensitized us to the problem, and I think ubiquity is also one of the root causes--in short, sexists know more women than racists know black people. There are more opportunities to be blatantly sexist. It's the oldest form of prejudice there is, because gender is the first characteristic available to us. After establishing that a person is, you know, human, gender is the next thing we want to know. Newborns are labeled as such in hospitals.

I'm not saying we should be squeamish about using gender as an identifying feature--I mean to illustrate the significance of gender in our lives from the moment we're born. And if we're basically okay with gross displays of sexism, think about how okay we are with implicit and unconscious sexism. It's scary.


*Perhaps even more so, since among this demographic the other "isms" are SO unacceptable.
**And Edwards being a douche about it, but that didn't get much attention either.

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Prelude To A Post

In attempt not to bombard you with one giant post combining my thoughts on Clinton, Obama, Steinem, my mother, and possibly the movie Juno, I'm going to start with some evidence that I will later introduce to an argument. So, below, a (no doubt inexhaustive) list of weirdly sexist things Chris Matthews has said about Hillary Clinton:

-He asked Chris Dodd, "Do you find it difficult to debate a woman?" Dodd, sanely, said no.

-He then went on to tell Tim Russert that Bill had her on a "short leash."

-He pinched her cheek. Repeat: he pinched her cheek.

-Last night after the primary results came in, he said to her Communications Director Howard Wolfson something like about how her appeal lies in the "contrast" between her "strength" and her "being a woman." Not actually a joke. This is something I actually saw, but unfortunately I can't find a link to it. He actually contrasted being a woman with being strong. Wolfson was, rightfully, slightly thrown.

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Monday, January 7, 2008

Ah Yes, 1992 WAS An Awesome Year, Wasn't It?

This is from io9, the new blog for women who like science fiction. I think. Anyway, here is the cover of a pulp novel from 1971:


I will not post the excerpt cuz I figure I should instead send you all over to io9 and you can read it there. It was their scoop, after all.

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All Years' Resolutions

Looking at Nerve's "Scanner Emily's Top 10 Lessons Learned in 2007," one thing jumped out:

4. If you suspect a guy is blowing you off, he is. No matter what your friends say.

This is SOOOO not news but I feel it bears constant repetition. I think my friends and I have learned this lesson to the point that we don't actually try to convince our friends they're not being blown off, but I know I still have that little pipsqueak voice in the back of my head that tries to make excuses. One has to constantly remind oneself that if a guy likes you, he will try to keep you from screwing other guys by at least calling you now and then.

Neighbor Steve was in fact helpful on this front recently, when an attempted set-up by a well-meaning friend resulted in me totally hitting it off with* this guy and then he never called. A few days later (Monday--->Saturday), Neighbor Steve and I, being just about the only ones not out of town for Christmas, went to our local bar for a drink, where there were 3 other people (bartender included). Then, of course, Monday Dude walks in. Awkward wave. That's it.

So, Neighbor Steve and I do the requisite check-in. Did he think Steve and I were on a date? Nah, we were SO not acting datey, which he would've seen had he been looking for signals, and more importantly, if he'd been interested he would've called by then. Did he get an extension due to the holiday weekend? Steve thought a minute and determined that, had he been interested, he should at least have texted me an "R u in town this wk?" Was it because I'm Jewish and he's all Church-Going Master's in Theology? Apparently he has a long history of choosing the Chosen. So, no more excuses: he blew me off. Tant pis. Neighbor Steve was quite indignant on my behalf, which is all a girl can ask.

I will stop here, since I am trying to NOT just go on and on about my life but to actually have a POINT, which is this: we often need reminders of things that we know we should know, but we're only human so sometimes we allow ourselves to forget. The end.

*Fine, "making out with."

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Political Quote Of The Day

"I know I've been campaigning too much because I was at a rally and instead of saying 'The time for change has come' I said 'The time for come has changed.' And I have to admit, everybody clapped."
-- Obama in a New Hampshire speech.

Via Jezebel.

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I Know My Calculus

Neighbors Kim & Scott introduced me, the other day, to a Columbia math grad student. He was nice, et cetera, not the point. At brunch on Sunday, Kim was telling us all about hanging out with him and his other Math Student friends. The particularly interesting part was the girls. Apparently, from spending so much time in a male-dominated field, a girl becomes "one of the boys." Meaning that these ladies talk about their sex lives as openly (read: brazenly) as the guys do. Kim's example was a girl talking about some spring break trip and saying, "And remember that time I had sex with three guys in one day? That was awesome!" Her male friend said, "Yeah, that was awesome!"

I was about to say, "Is it weird that I think that sounds great?" But my roommate beat me to it--"You know Susan B. would totally talk that way if we did." She was totally right, and I totally appreciated it.

Two things. One: this maybe supports my family's belief in co-ed education. I dunno. Two: It's funny that I've basically never been able to just gleefully spill all my details to anyone without fearing it was TMI. I came closest with my flatmate in London, mostly because we were two American Broads Abroad and that's what you do. I don't even know for sure that my guy friends talk that way to each other. But then I wouldn't, would I? They don't seem like the types, but that's probably a Naive Girl thing to say.

So if anyone wants to be my Kiss-and-Tell buddy, applications are now available.

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How The Other Half Lives

The other night, over birthday drinks, I wound up talking to some friends about compulsive serial monogamy and how in general it is not good. Not a novel stance on our parts, but always a subject worth revisiting. Partway through, I realized that my three comrades were all in longish-term relationships, and were talking about not just what it's like to be single, but about what one has to do in order to be single in a healthy way. It occurred to me that I, in fact, was single, and that in an inadvertent way they were inherently describing what my life needs to be like in order for me to be healthy. Which I do not say negatively--they were, after all, saying good things, and presumably believe that I (basically) live my life as a Good Single.

The thing that struck me, as it always does, was that to some people singledom is something one must work towards. Now, this year I did some dating that was not necessarily awesome but mostly got me over my idea that I am incapable of dating, and that dating is something that other people do. However, it still occasionally blows my mind that, to many people, dating is a default setting. Some people have to learnto be single.


Just below, I discussed my theory that "Some people were born to fuck." Maybe some people are likewise Born To Date. And just as I ought not constantly be fucking, so too is it a good idea for the BTDs among us to chill out now and then. And most of them do.
But when a friend of mine, having settled in a few months after moving to New York, said "I think I'm ready to start dating now," it actually spun me a little. It hadn't occurred to me, in practical terms, that dating was a function of readiness. That is, I'd always thought of it as some kind of alchemy that you might stumble into a person whom you not only liked but who-- BY FREAKISH COINCIDENCE--happened also to like you. The odds have always seemed to me very slim that I would like someone who, out of every other person he knew, liked me--and vice versa. It seemed like something that had to just magically happen. Surely there was no element of human willinvolved.

So, perhaps the BTFs and the BTDs can learn from each other. Okay, I actually have no idea what the daters can learn from me, except that maybe when a BTD dates a BTF, ze will know that being sexually active is not a sign of spiritual bankruptcy. I don't know. But I am learning--and, as a New Year's resolution, will continue to learn-- that perhaps I have some agency after all. We shall see.

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Susan B.'s Words To Live By: An Ode to Fucking

A bit of a preamble on this one.

Trite though it may seem, Susan B. has a fuck buddy. Or perhaps a booty caller--once or twice a year we get together and have awesome sex*, and then we don't see each other for at least six months. The interesting thing about this guy (I mean, there's more than one, he's an interesting guy, you know what I mean never mind) is that he was my aforementioned first. He did not know this fact until afterwards, and was surprised by it, and the next time he saw me seemed a tad guilty, like he thought he should've called, and I was all "whatever dude" and we did it again.

Though I feel weird posting too much detail (I actually had written more on the subject but changed my mind), suffice it to say that this guy was not any kind of boyfriend, and I sort of took the initiative, though really he made the first move. (Something for which I am eternally grateful.) I left feeling extremely empowered, like I'd thrown off the tyranny of "Someone Special." As though, with his assistance, I'd taken my own virginity.

During our last rendez-vous, about a month ago, he brought up for the first time the whole I-deflowered-you thing. After making it clear that he thought that was awesome, he said something like, "You've probably fucked tons of guys by now." I froze up a little, and he quickly said, "Or not..." And I realized that he'd meant it as a compliment. He thought I'd frozen up because maybe it was untrue and I felt lame or something. I remembered that before I'd even (seriously) entertained the idea of hooking up with him, I'd heard that he, well, got around. To him, a well-notched headboard was a thing of beauty.

And that's when I developed these words of wisdom:

"Some people were born to fuck."

If you'll pardon my language.

This is a slight plagiarism from Love In the Time of Cholera--I think the quote is something like, "Some people fuck and some people don't," but that implies a certain superiority that I do not mean. Plenty of people fuck. I did not invent fucking. But some of us have a different attitude. It probably doesn't even require a high number--you can be Born To Fuck and still like serious relationships. In High Fidelity (the movie, anyway), Lisa Bonet describes fucking as an inherent right. For some people, sex can be a genuinely beautiful thing even if you don't have strong feelings for the other person. Fucking can be beautiful. Fucking can be fulfilling**.

"Fulfilling" is an important word, because I've heard it used by two not-so-into-casual-sex people I know. As in, "How can that be fulfilling?" At the time(s), the question didn't actually make sense to me. Fulfilling of what? And why did it have to be fulfilling? Does everything you do on a Saturday night have to satisfy a spiritual need? But having really thought about it, it really does. Satisfy a spiritual need, I mean. When I moved to London for a year, I called it "running away from home," but my mom called it my Walkabout. And I decided that I had, in fact, found my spirit animal***. Sex was my spirit animal.

What the hell does that mean? Well, probably you either get it right away or you don't. Maybe you get it even if you don't feel that way, I genuinely don't know. There was a recent study suggesting that promiscuous people are either extremely emotionally cold or emotionally warm towards their partners. I guess I fall into the latter category. Unless something went actively wrong, I tend to think of my past partners with great affection, even when I didn't know that much about them****. It is especially wonderful, I realize looking back, when two BTF people cross paths. Maybe that's what made my first time feel so special. It was a meeting of the minds. And other things, obviously, but the important part: maybe we were, in some way, kindred spirits.

I don't know if this idea has any "ramifications." I'm sure, for example, that there are happy pairings across types. One thing I learned from growing up in Greenwich Village: not everyone is the same. Nor should they be. So, however many digits your number is, and however thick your black book, good luck and God bless. May you always be fulfilled.




*The kind that often requires a few days' recovery and a lot of cranberry juice.
**And not just literally.
***Culturally mixed metaphor, but bear with me.
****For example: their last names.

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Friday, January 4, 2008

I Have A Fever...And The Only Perscription Is More Primaries

That is not actually a joke. The NH primary is on Tuesday and I am chomping at the bit. Obama and Clinton are my Britney, Wonkette my TMZ.

Some say that Huckabee is bad news for the Dems, since he's the only candidate who can galvanize the evangelicals. This is reportedly what happened in Iowa. But the Democratic turnout was more than twice that of Republican voters, so how galvanized can they be? 239,000 Democratic voters (compared to 2004's 125,000!) versus 108,000 Republican voters. Apparently you don't have to wave the Jesus flag to get people to the polls.

I don't know enough to actually extrapolate Iowa voting to how the nation will vote in the November election. I confess that I don't see how Huckabee or Romney could beat Obama, The Most Charming Man EverTM. I have no idea about McCain, since I find him so uncharming, but then I, unlike him, am pro-choice, so how could I find him charming?

I have never before been so desperate for hot primary action. Which is true of the rest of the nation--this is getting tons more coverage now than in 2004. But then, this is the first time since 1928 that none of the candidates are incumbents or Vice-Presidents. All the primaries actually matter!Except for all the ones after South Carolina, but you know what I mean.

Actually, this year's obligatory Stupid Christmas Family Fight was about the caucuses, which my mother for some reason thinks are cool. But she did make the good point that I have little historical perspective on the primaries and am basing my opinion mostly on 2004. (The opinion being that Iowa caucuses are basically the only primary that matters.) I later told her that Anna Quindlen hates the caucuses, too, which shut her up. But she couldn't bring herself to actually read the article.

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Thursday, January 3, 2008

This Has Nothing To Do With Feminism

But I can't resist. Because it is too amazing. Someone on a Jezebel comment thread directed me to Brigham Young University's honor code, and on the main page, is the best Frequently Asked Question OMG EVER ASKED IN THE HISTORY OF QUESTIONS. You ready? Here we go:

"What is the process for obtaining a beard waiver?"


Perfection. Try saying it aloud if you don't believe me.

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Dudes I Like: Neo-Weimar Edition

This feature will be replacing "Male Feminist of the Week" because, well, that was too hard. Not that there aren't plenty of male feminists out there, but there aren't many guys TALKING about how they're feminists. So we'll switch to guys who I think are cool, and living in a feminist way or embodying a feminist ideal, and we'll start with this one:


Brian Viglione of The Dresden Dolls.

Brian is, primarily, the drummer of this awesome Brechtian punk cabaret duo. I will in fact add a photo of both him and his counterpart, Amanda Palmer, as there are more cool pics of them together.


Anyway. One of the innumerable cool things about this band is that they are sort of an inversion of the White Stripes--male drummer, female lead vocalist and musician (keyboard), the woman is the front, uh, man. Viglione is, however, far more active onstage than Meg White. I of course have no idea how the Whites actually work when CREATING music, but Viglione has been a drummer since he was 9 (or earlier, depending on how you interpret his bio) and is a gifted musician independent of his main gig. Just sayin.

Comparisons aside, it is inspiring to see a truly talented man supporting a (also truly talented) woman. While they are clearly partners, the focus is usually on Palmer, and she tends to be the protagonist--whether on stage, on CD, or in videos. You must check out the video for "Coin-Operated Boy," which will give you an idea of how integral he is to songs that are clearly from a female perspective. The Dresden Dolls give one hope that maybe men are actually capable of listening to music by (and--gasp--often about!) women. Maybe it's sad that I'm so impressed, but I really appreciate a man being able to collaborate with a woman, and not have to be the center of attention.

Not that he never gets center stage. Oh no. I saw the Dolls perform this New Year's, and in addition to being awesome on drums and vocals, and playing guitar a bit, well: Just before the countdown, he stepped up to the mic and took up the guitar. Amanda got behind the drums (hot!) to back him up, and announced that they were going to perform a "very old but very effective Jewish protest song." They then performed "Fight For Your Right to Party." Amazing. He was totally a credible Beastie Boy.

Full disclosure: I also like him because he's damn sexy. I did not quite realize this until the concert, when he ditched his trademark bowler hat (and, uh, his shirt), and it turns out he looks like this:

Who can argue with that?

Also, according to Wikipedia (so who knows if it's true), he's been a crossdresser since he was 12. Hot. Sorry to objectify you Brian--I mean it with the utmost respect. There should be more like you.


PS: If you did check out that video (or have heard the song), it may interest you to know that the line "I can even take him in the bath" is, uh, different when performed live. FYI.

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26 Years of Enfranchisement!

Well, it's been two weeks, because I've been sitting around being angsty about work. But what better way to return to my duties than...on my birthday! Yep, happy birthday to me. It is fitting, because last night I was thinking a bit about my birthday suit. That's right--it's body image time! So, here's what occurred to me for the first time: I don't hate my body. Obviously, we all have a few things we'd like to change about ourselves, and we all have what I like to call Bad Face Days, but all in all I actually kind of like my body.

But. (What, you weren't expecting a but?) I realize that I assume OTHER people hate my body. While I enjoy my curves and my soft spots, I know that they don't fit into what I'm actually supposed to look like. I think people should find me attractive...but I don't expect them to. Yes yes, of course I have friends who try to convince me I'm hot, but they tend to be people who love me and/or people who have girlfriends*, so I don't believe them. So when I look in the mirror and want to cry, it's not because I hate my body--it's because I hate myself for not changing my body when I feel that would improve my life.

But that, of course, is exactly why I have a hard time committing to any more diet and exercise than I've already done. (I lost 20 lbs. sophomore year of college through healthy means, it was nice.) I would be losing weight for some hypothetical other person I don't even quite believe in, for the sake of ideals I decry on this very blog.

Maybe this is not the happiest birthday thought, but it does make me feel better--both to realize I like my body, and to realize there's actually a kind of good reason I can't bring myself to weigh and measure my food. So I will not feel guilty about the mom-made yellow cake with chocolate frosting I will be eating tonight. Even though in some way maybe I should.


*Guys who have girlfriends are really good at thinking I'm hot while they're unavailable, then avoiding me like the plague as soon as they're single again. On bad days, I think of guys-who-have-girlfriends as my nemeses. Particularly guys-who-have-girlfriends-who-are-out-of-town-at-the-moment.

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