Category Archives: Opinion

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Your Parents Sex Life is a Fun Way to Not Think About our Goblin President for Like, One Minute

“Having sex with your father is like trying to get a worm through a key hole.”

“It’s just that I’ve always had a very sensitive gag reflux and your dad has always been…endowed.”

“Feels like the last time I came I was watching the Mary Tyler Moore Show.”

“Most days it feels as dry as a librarian’s basement down there.”

“I know your dad wants to have sex because he only had two Manhattans with dinner.”

“The good thing about it is I haven’t had to wash our sheets for years.”

“I think I might have that medical thing where your hoo-ha just closes up…what’s that called, pussy teeth?”

These are all things I prefer hearing over anything that comes out of Trump’s hateful gremlin mouth. His face makes me long to be blind. It looks like what happens to your cervix when you leave a tampon in too long. Trump is like your racist dad who has someone to help him spell McCarthyism which is very dangerous.

Okay, so honestly, nothing can distract us from the trash fire that is this current administration but maybe that’s a good thing. We literally can’t look away. Idk guys, hold your loved ones close and join the resistance I guess. Also, parents should have sex but maybe we don’t hear about it so much.

 

The Girl Can’t Help It

Your friendly neighborhood feminist here. There’s a lot going on, isn’t there? Like, ALL THE TIME. Like even when you wake up at 5:00 in the morning because Seizing the Day and Following Your Dreams and whatnot. Was I in middle school once? Did we, as women, win the right to control our reproductive bodies in 1973 or did I imagine that? Where am I even? Can I have a do over?

Save us, Ruth.

Save us, Ruth.

The Supreme Court decided last week that a corporation’s right to religious freedom is more important than a women’s right to access necessary healthcare. It decided that a corporation can have religious freedom. Because everyone knows you need to get to church early or those pesky early bird corporations will take all the seats! Nope. That doesn’t happen. Can a corporation have its period? Can a corporation get pregnant? Can I ask a corporation what religion they believe in when they apply for a job? Is it physically possible to kick a corporation right in the balls – just square in the seed holder? The answer to all of the questions is a resounding no.

What this decision tells us is that Hobby Lobby’s god believes that a woman should not be able to regulate her reproductive bodies through the birth control method of her choice but that a man, in whatever scenario that so provokes him, can choose to acquire and use reproductive medicines — vasectomies, viagra, etc. Because apparently god didn’t take whiskey dick into consideration when making Adam and Eve. Their god just feels a little weird about allowing women agency and autonomy over their bodies in the same way that guys have it — something about not trusting women after the whole snake in the garden incident (more on this to come)

And of course we can learn a lot from brave, mind-shattering responses from great minds like Erick Erickson:

Above all, there is a “sucks to be you” mentality at work here. You want to have sex whenever you want, you dirty slut? Well, sucks to be you because you have to be pregnant and deal with the whole birth thing and we’re going to chip away at your access to the one thing that can allow you to take control and agency over that very process. Of course, there are always TWO people involved in an unplanned pregnancy. Yet for the emotional, physical, and financial  burden thrust upon the woman, you would think she got pregnant by herself at feminist camp.

HL-meme-11

We are told to accept our biology and embrace the limitations imposed upon that very biology because some God decided it to be that way. He originated the “sucks to be you” reasoning in his conversation with Eve:

“I will make your pains in childbearing very severe;
with painful labor you will give birth to children.
Your desire will be for your husband,
and he will rule over you.” (Genesis 3:16)

Man’s punishment for listening to Eve (a woman apparently made from HIS OWN RIB yet he was still unable to talk it out with her before eating the poisonous fruit): You’re going to have to work really hard to get your own food and work, you’ll have to rule over all women, and one day you will die and return to dust.

I don’t know, given the whole human mortality condition this punishment doesn’t seem entirely on par with the women’s punishment.

personperson

Religious freedom is one thing but freedom on its own is entirely separate. Freedom to be a person and not be ruled by any other person. Freedom to be seen as more than a rib taken from a man that was written about in an old, old, book. Freedom to have SEX without comment from the purity police — because we all know that a MAJORITY of our country has sex for reasons besides PROCREATION (Like say, pleasure and intimacy?). Freedom to make informed, educated choices about my body because you don’t see us trying to take away your Viagra. Believe me, we have way more important things to do. 

More Hobby Lobby hypocrisy:

The Guardian

Mother Jones

 

 

Real Talk: To Poo Pourri or not to Poo Pourri

The other day, as I innocently watched television via my friend’s parent’s Xfinity account computer, I was taken aback by some gratuitous poo talk. Granted, the commercial was for a poo-smell-negating product but it was offensive nonetheless. OKAY…have you guys heard of Poo Pourri? If you haven’t, it’s a lovely little spray you use before said pooing occurs, which eliminates that yucky odor that tends to remind us humans that we’re all slowly rotting away from the inside out — some worse than others.  (SPOILER: in the following paragraphs I may hint at the possibility that girls poop.)

poo-pourri girl

I know what you’re thinking right now: Aly, you’ve literally talked about bowel movements in 75% of your posts, what’s so gross about a well-mannered Brit elaborating on her poop processes  First, check it out for yo’self:

 

So, my beef is with the Orbit-esque nature of the ad — the whole concept that a prim and proper British lady with a pearl necklace is the the only qualified female able to talk about “unladylike” stuff like pooping because the overwhelming nature of her refinement neutralizes the words “tenacious skid marks” when they flow out of her mouth. And sure, it’s not like I wanna live my life obsessed with the literal act of shitting:

Exaggerated enactment of what life would look like if I only talked about my digestive mood:

“Hey, Aly, how’s it going?”

“Well, judging by the box of pizza I’m still pretending I didn’t eat last night, today’s going to be loose and uncomfortable. But enough about my bowels, how are you doing, Bob?”

No one wants this– not Bob and not me.

The ad just makes me think of a room full of advertising executives throwing out ideas and one of them yells out, after watching remembering how cool the “put a bird on it” episode of Portlandia was: “Hey, let’s put a British accent on it! That’ll make it watchable!” And thus, poop was classed up a bit. Made more ladylike and acceptable for those men still uncomfortable with the idea of a women sitting a toilet, emptying her tiny, fragile, lady bowels.

And then I come to find out that Bethany Woodruff, the poo actress, is actually Scottish. Alas, the British nature of this ad is totally purposeful and a lot creepier. Should we blame Mary Poppins? Is it our fault?

There’s a larger problem at work here — the problem of society not accepting women for anything besides being female and all that the term implies. Femininity is obviously not synonymous with taking a shit but if we put a pretty, proper girl in a nice dress, throw on some pearls, and plop her on top of a toilet, voila! It is now acceptable for her to talk about her bowel movements.

Take her out of that scenario, things get weird again:

Clearly, this guy is a little uncomfortable with the topic at hand. It’s like he’s not sure if it’s okay to ask the agreed upon questions for the interview.

Interviewer: What was the hardest line for you to keep a straight face?

“I think tenacious skid mark… not often do you hear a female say my skid marks are tenacious..know what I mean?”

“I’ll take your word for it because I don’t know how tenacious they are…”

Awkward laughter ensues until the camera goes to a female newscaster who says:

“Just for the record, I don’t do that.”

So yeah, girls talking about poop is still awkward. Even if she kind of sounds like the Queen. We’ve come a long way.

 In all honesty, I’ll probably try this product because why not? And if we could take the stink aspect out of poop, maybe us girls would feel more inclined to join the conversation. 

Would you Poo Pourri? Does one of your coworkers need to Poo Pourri? Potty humor welcome. 

Leave My Uterus Alone, Rick Perry

*This was originally posted last summer after spending a lot of time at the Texas Capitol groaning and eye rolling as Rick Perry’s team played for a dirty victory where the prize was women’s reproductive rights. Today I will be going to see Queen Wendy, House of Davis, Mother of Dragons and I thought it was about time to revisit all the reasons she MUST win the governorship.

***

Let’s get real for a second.

Hey Rick Perry, do you remember that time you said you pray because you’re “prone to make a lot of mistakes” and also, when in front of America, you claimed there were three very important agencies of the government you were going to get rid of and oh wait, was it the EPA? I still don’t know because you never remembered.  Also, remember when you said you hoped to be the Tim Tebow of the Iowa caucus? (Sad about his career now, huh?) Or when you said OUT LOUD that the minimum voting age was 21? (Gotta get that apathetic youth vote!)

I guess you really are prone to make mistakes.

See, that’d be funny and all if you were my 103-year-old senile grandfather peeing on the lawn and not the person who runs the state I live in and who is holding my reproductive rights in your hand like a soft tomato (are you surprised I didn’t call it a delicate flower? Well, fuck you.) You’re own republican friends have called you “Bush without the brains” so I think you should tread lightly when passing judgement.

You’ve been talking a lot about Wendy Davis, who has recently been described as a “former teen mom” — which is so great because we usually only hear about teen dads. Nope, that’s not true…

971

You claim she clearly hasn’t learned from her own example as a teen mom. Obviously, as a middle-aged white man you would have a lot of expertise on being a teenaged girl. Now, you are calling a second special session — because all those people flooding the capitol to protest your BS was just a coincidence — to push through the draconian bill that would close 37 out of our 42 reproductive health clinics and make abortions illegal after 20 weeks. Because why wouldn’t five clinics in the massive state of Texas be enough for over ten million women? Oh right, because math. But you claim that you are fighting for human rights by passing this bill. That’s weird. It didn’t seem like you were fighting for human rights when you vetoed the bill that would assist women in the fight for equal pay because you were afraid it’d hinder job creation. Yay! Human rights! Let the free market work itself out!

See the thing is, Rick, people like Wendy can’t just pick and choose the human rights’ issues that’ll best serve their political agenda like you and your conservative cronies. People like us don’t have that freedom. Because you exist. Because you think it’s your right to determine who gets married and what I can do with my own body. Do you hear me telling you what to do with your penis? No, that’d be creepy and invasive. Yes, Wendy Davis had a baby at nineteen — she chose to have a baby. That’s the point here. Pro-Choicers are just that. We are not pro-abortion. We are for women’s abilities to make an informed, educated choice about her body and her health (which will be soo easy to do when there are only five women’s health clinic in the entire state).

So no, old white haired men, I’d rather you not tell me when and when I cannot have a baby and I’d rather you listen to some ladies. I want to be clear here, though, that I think any baby-having decisions should ultimately be discussed with both parties involved and not just up to the female. With that said, if it’s the responsibility of both parties then we should make a law where men must wear full prosthetic baby bellies for the entire gestation of the fetus and/or microchip every man so his whereabouts are known and therefore, he is unable to leave his pregnant partner until the baby is born. Because that doesn’t seem like an invasion of privacy or anything.

RickPerryCorndog

Wendy Davis already schooled you once, filibustering like hell so ya’ll wouldn’t cut tons of money for education. And you know what? Filibustering in Texas is hard! This isn’t no reading the telephone book Congress bull shit or handing it off to your colleague when you’ve run out of lines from Alice in Wonderland. Sister couldn’t even lean on her desk! What I’m trying to say, Rick Perry, is that you’re a hairdo and a nice face on an ignorant republican robot body so get the corn dog out of your mouth and back the fuck off my uterus. Or I’m gonna go get Wendy.

A Discussion on Workplace Etiquette (or Don’t Steal my Lunch, You Jerks!)

Let me start off my addressing the thief who ate my frozen pad thai lunch. Who do you think you are, the decider of the future of wayward frozen meals? What do you just wait for the moment everyone has gone home and  you think, “yeah, now’s my chance! I’ll show them!” in the voice of Brain from Pinky and the Brain? And then you proceed to sneak into the break room and siphon off people’s lunches one small delicious bite at a time? Well sir, I’ve heard of the missing PB&J and deli meat sandwiches and I have heard of the souptastrophe of early April and may I just say… HOW DARE YOU?

Look at it! Look at what you stole from me!

Look at it! Look at what you stole from me!

Not only am I upset by the cahones you seem to have in the lunch thievery department but I am also offended for a multitude of other reasons. Like, where were you during fridge clean outs when I threw out five pounds of pinto beans and watered down coleslaw from that corporate luncheon? Where were you when that leftover chicken sandwich squirted it’s musty juices on my just washed denims? Were those leftovers not good enough for your thieving bear claws?!

And what confuses you about a frozen meal labeled Aly 4/14/14? Look at all those fours! It was so much fun to write! And it was a g-damn gluten-free veggie pad thai! You’ve now forced me to walk around the office aimlessly, like those birds who mysteriously found their way into a mall or a parking garage and cannot get out, searching for an answer. There will be payback and it will be tenfold. You’ve made a girl who cannot eat gluten VERY hungry and you know what they say about people who give up gluten…(you know, just that we’re cranky about not eating gluten but our bodies ultimately feel much better).

Now to you, man with lots of questions at our hour-long sexual harassment training. We get it, we get it, you’re REALLY into freedom of speech. So when someone tells you that explaining why same-sex marriage is wrong cannot happen in the workplace, you get all butthurt about it.

inigo

You: But the 1st Amendment guarantees I can say what I want without being penalized for being a pompous asshole who doesn’t understand how the law or morality and office etiquette works. (Stomps feet on the ground and shakes a baby rattle)

Big lawyer guy from NY office that knows more than you because he is an actual lawyer: Sure, you have freedom of speech but when you’re in the workplace there are other factors to take into consideration…Like how your speech effects the feelings of others. Is it offensive? Is it appropriate?

Me (to myself but pretending I’m the big lawyer man): And you know what is not in the constitution, Mr. dumbass —  may I call you Mr. Dumbass? — is a right to be employed, (Hence the whole, millions of people unemployed thing). [Drops mic]

free speech

Take it from me, a person who isn’t offended THAT easily (unless it’s something sexist, or racist, or anti-Dog Whisperer): No one wants to hear your slightly hateful rhetoric defending the First Amendment. And I get it, because I’m white and privilege is deep ingrained into my psyche as well, that you think you should be able to say WHATEVER your little-man-penis desires but that’s just not the case anymore, sir. You can, however, find hope that Mad Men still has a new season for you to “spank the monkey” too as Don Draper and his cronies use their free speech to degrade every woman they come into contact with. Hey, you could even make it into a drinking game — that seems fun and well-suited to your douchebag dispositions. Enjoy liver failure in ten years! Free speech rocks!

What sort of workplace injustice have you overcome? Was “hugs happen” also a takeaway from your workplace harassment training?

 

A Brief Open Letter to the Woman at the Dog Park

Is your name Starlight? Or maybe Rainbow-serenity? Let’s go with Starlight. I hope that’s okay, Starlight. When I was little I’m pretty sure I dreamed of your free-spirited ease of being and penned a song about you entitled, “Why can’t the world be free?” More than anything, I think the song scared my dad into fearing my future liberal political and social endeavors. I have a few confessions, Starlight, and since you’ve shared with me that you’re moving to “the new high rises downtown” I feel like it’s a good time to get them out in the open.

First, my fiance saw your boobs. I know! I know! Do you also feel a lot closer now? I do. I feel great getting this off my chest, (see what I did there?!?). He didn’t comment much about them which inevitably means they were impressive and I can see that, Starlight. Like, literally I can see the outline of your breasts because you’re never wearing a bra — the nipples too. And that’s okay! Bras are just a cagey nuisance of underwire and female suppression. And you know, if only all of us women could be so open as to share our boobs with the world via our patios maybe, just maybe we’d be a freer place.

I just found out this is called "African Style" and I'm left wondering... why does everyone hate Americans so much?

I just found out this is called “African Style” and I’m left wondering… why does everyone hate Americans so much?

When did you have your adorable baby, Starlight, and do you also think he has the head of Rob Reiner? Like, not in a bad way, he just has the biggest baby head I’ve ever seen. And this concerns me, as the level of shape your body is in would put Cosmopolitan’s “How to lose (insert area of body that any women has ever complained about)…” section out of business.  Is it because you are constantly carrying that nugget on your back using a tie-dyed sheet and a few overhand knots? Wait, did you secretly grow up in Laguna Beach, CA where your father taught you to sail and do things like tie knots properly? Now that I think of it, your red hair did not seem all that natural (because women born there can only be blonde. And rich. You know, because, Laguna Beach). Were you friends with LC? How about her and that Kohl’s deal, amiright? I’m sure you’re happy for her. Because, you know, karma and good vibes.

I have to admit that I’ve often thought about the nature of your family, like in the way that I could’ve sworn your baby daddy was a homosexual male. And it’s obviously none of my business, except for the times he yells “hi!” when I’m out on my balcony which is an obvious open invitation to examine your personal lives. It’s just, his hair is so perfectly unkempt and also that time I swore he was holding hands with a man. It’s confusing! Are you guys pulling an The Object of My Affection starring late 90s Jen Aniston and Paul Rudd? Because who wouldn’t want to raise her child with gay Paul Rudd? If so, no judgment here!

Because wouldn't we all marry gay Paul Rudd?

We’d all marry gay Paul Rudd.

Mostly, I just want you to know I’m thinking of you and how much you look like Jenny Lewis and how jealous that makes me. Oh, and I also wanted to know if all of your friends also look like a combination of the Lost Boys from Hook and members of an up-and-coming indie band or is that just you? And also sure, your baby is a pretty fucking loud crier (But still totz adorbz!).

Apparently, the Lost Boys may have actually formed an Indie band already...

Apparently, the Lost Boys may have actually formed an Indie band already…

Enjoy your new home in downtown Austin, Starlight! (Remind me again how you mysteriously make enough money to live in downtown Austin yet could pass for not having a shower in your home…)

Love,

Your nosey neighbors! xoxo

Balking Heads: Why Being on Television Does Not Make You an Expert

john stosselIt could be residual shame from repeatedly forcing my mom to call me out sick at Stop and Shop when I was fifteen until I eventually stopped showing up, but I can no longer miss work without a swelling wave of guilt and unrealized goals washing over me like a scene from The Endless Summer. Except this wave is called anxiety and i’m not hanging ten, man. I just can’t do it. It’s something about my self-deprecating self-obsession that sweetly allows me to believe I don’t deserve to take a sick day when I’m sick while maintaining the assumption that things will fall apart if I’m gone. However, if I am sick then you are not sick. It’s just that simple, have some empathy people.

With this in mind, you can imagine my infuriation when John Stossel’s mustache recently spoke out about health insurance on Fox & Friends, claiming that women use the service more because they are hypochondriacs. Wrong again, you mustachioed blockhead. Sure, maybe women are more responsible and more proactive about their health but since when did that become a bad thing? Oh, right, when our communist President took office and passed a comprehensive health care bill is when.

First off, preventative health care is less expensive then reactive and there’s also that thing, what’s it called, oh yeah! Childbirth! To which host Steve Doocy replies, “And as a number of Republicans have made the argument, why should I pay for — I’m in my 60s, why should I pay for your maternity coverage?”

Click is you can't see --Their expertise is astounding.

Their expertise is astounding.

I’m sorry, Mr. Doocy and sixty-year-old or over republicans who don’t want to pay for my maternity coverage, has your penis stopped producing semen? Is there a rule I’m unaware of that disallows men over 60 to screw young women and get them pregnant? Hugh Hefner, anyone? Did the women you’re speaking of get pregnant on their own? Did all those man-hating liberal feelings just knock them right up? Am I also allowed to stop paying for your Medicare and Social Security because I’m 24, in debt from student loans you told me to take, working full time and can barely afford my rent?

The fact that a woman’s insurance shoulders the financial burden of childbirth is in of itself offensive and telling of the unequal nature of our society as a whole. Stossel, who would’ve been better as a professional Freddie Mercury lookalike claims, “if it’s insurance, you ought to be able to charge people who use the services more, more.” Or, how about if you’re a douchey Libertarian who thinks he has any authority over women’s healthcare costs, you should have to spend one day as a pregnant or menstruating women to determine whether you’re man enough to be a woman. Then we’ll talk about who has to pick up the bill.

Stossell-Organs

Because what could go wrong with selling your own organs?

After reading that article and many like it, a rage of pent up aggression from a lifetime of “are you on your period?” jokes came over me like that time an old man corrected my skating at Roller World — those “men” that stick their fingers in their ears and sprint away at the hint of the word period like I’m about to open an envelope of Anthrax only transmittable through the ear canal. And then I realized a main reason I’m resentful toward those men that react with such ignorance is because they’ll never have to deal with curses of the female body, never have to suffer through a horrible bout of irritable bowels just as their period is starting — when this situation occurs angels look down and weep at the poor helpless female souls who are on on toilets wondering how in the world anyone will ever find them attractive after such an atrocious act.

Sure, it’s the miracle of life, sort of. It’s the poisonous snake. It’s why I will ALWAYS keep talking about my period even when your penis-holding self tries to embarrass me in front of everyone on our sophomore dorm floor by saying, “Ewwwww, no one wants to hear that,” or “go watch The Notebook or call your mom or something.” Because yes, the douchebag in this story is not only sexist and immature but also really bad at comebacks and no, I don’t feel one ounce of sympathy for you having to pay part of my health costs or having to hear about the evil miracle happening inside of me because that’s ALL you have to do is HEAR about it. And I’m SO SURE that you’ve never sent disgusting pictures of your shit to your roommate in a bragging way. My shit’s probably so much bigger than yours, bro. (And I can say this because an upright and successful young man has already formulated a proper marriage proposal, the dowry is all lined up, etc.)

*I’ve been away a while and the rambling nature of this post may speak volumes to that but to those who have stayed to read my insanity unfold, I am very grateful and as a reward, I’ll wait a couple of days before mentioning my period again. Stay tuned for my next post, where I realize I’m turning a quarter-century old and get nostalgic about nostalgia and Gilmore Girls.

Just Don’t Be That Guy

pic1The internet has brought me to this guy and his self appointed Generation Y life expertise and you know what universe? I’m not laughing. He is every guy on Wall Street that gambled away all your money. He’s Ted Cruz fake fillibustering Congress with Cat in the Hat references. He’s Bruce and Kris Jenner rolled into one fantastically unbearable Kristen Wiig as “Gilly” lookalike (next time on the Kardashians: Bruce and Kris go to court to see who wins custody of their hairstyle). His name is Preston and he is a self-prescribed “thinker.”

oprah

Clearly the beginnings of a twerk…

Preston prides himself on being “the ultimate man’s man for Gen Y.”  The 20 Mistakes You Don’t Want to Make in Your 20s would be more properly titled, A List of Stuff I Took From Other Lists of Stuff and Also Some Offensive Stances on Female Dignity. Some other gems from this author include, “The Awful Girls Who Decided To Take Their Shoes Off In Nightclubs” “The Ultimate Prank Combining Beers and Bros,” and my favorite, “Miley Cyrus: The Reason I Never Want to Have a Daughter,” a detailed look into how super successful women like Oprah aren’t seen twerking it because “they have their fun in a ladylike fashion.”

Sure, the list tries to masquerade as an uplifting guide to being a generic person: Build your dreams! Forge your own path! But then this thoughtfully put together list of complete bro-rageous bullshit exposes its author for who he is: a bitter asshole who innately believes women are inferior to men and that being elite is the only option in life, all while presupposing that sacrificing happiness to get ahead is the only actual route to happiness (and let’s face it: he’s probably also not getting any).

Preston douchebag-ism #1: Don’t be in a relationship in your 20s because it makes you complacent and boring. “The last thing you need is to be bogged down by an insecure lover rushing you home.”

I find it so refreshing when someone says AT me: “Whaaaaaaat? You’re too young to be engaged!” It’s such an affirming life statement. So from now on my reply is, “Whaaaaat you’re too old to be alone!” or maybe “But I bet the baby that’s surely growing inside of you is company enough! What’s that? You’re actually not pregnant? Oh, THEN I’M SORRY FOR MAKING A SWEEPING GENERALIZATION ABOUT YOUR LIFE DECISIONS.”

Also, if anyone can force me to get off my ass and stop watching Gilmore Girl reruns it’s Matti. Sure, if I were single I’d get back all that time I waste having safe, intimate sex but this isn’t exactly the type of “bogged down” I have a problem with.

Prestonism #2: “A bad job is like a bitchy gf who gives bad head.” 

Hey Preston, that other article you wrote about how women have made it a long way in the world might be negated by this statement. Thanks for all those new equalities, progress! Now I can go back to giving GOOD head,  you know, the whole reason women were made with mouths (And for gossiping, of course! OBV).

“Your sex life is an investment… Instead of navigating through an ambiguous investment in which you shower your woman with cash and prizes for the mediocre sex provided, deal with a professional as soon as possible…Want a best friend? Buy a puppy. Want great sex? Call an escort.”

Are people I know really doing this? I thought this was only a serious thought in the movie Porky’s. Preston, I know this is hard for you to accept, but women were not solely made for you to have sex with. We can talk and think just like the other humans! Oh and try having sex with a non escort again soon, just take that huge misogynistic stick out of your ass and it may be a bit more enjoyable. Also, you should probably try making a human best friend, dogs tend to forget your birthday and they SUCK at planning parties.

It’s the people like Preston that scare me because they remind me so much of Christian Bale in American Psycho. Sure they’re not all serial killers but they all kinda border on sociopathic. Like who makes not “dating an unstable woman with mommy and daddy issues” a criteria in one’s life, as if that label can accurately characterize any one woman? I suggest learning from Charlie Sheen — stop being so offensively ignorant in public. (Hey, these days, you can even get famous by being smart!)

*If nothing else, I will spend my adult life exposing Prestons for the immature, sexist, secret Charlie Sheen wannabes they really are. And of course making fun of them for my own enjoyment and ultimate comedic benefit…

8 Reasons Why Women Should Do Whatever the Hell they Want

*This post is written entirely in response to this article. You’ve been warned.

Hey ladies, in case you were wondering, you shouldn’t go to college because when you think of it, you really don’t need to go to college to be an amazing mother or a loving and subservient wife. And oh yeah, that’s all you were meant to do in this world! What’s that? You’ve always dreamed of becoming a doctor and saving lives? Sorry, that’s why God made men, you silly woman! You know those people with magical penises that allow them to enter into any vocation they so choose? Yeah, they’ll cover the whole life-saving, dream following thing. Now go iron your husbands’ pants and plan out the family meals for the week you kindhearted nurturer!

That was the takeaway message from a recent article my wonderful future mother-in-law sent my way: “6 Reasons to NOT send your daughter to College.” Charming, huh?  I thought I had lost the ability to be shocked by misogynistic ramblings. Apparently I can still be shocked. And apparently it’s still acceptable to use religion as a means to subjugate women. It seems as if the author of this piece has learned nothing from Pope Francis’ recent pleas for humanity.

So, I thought, if those beliefs are out there, preying on innocent minds, why not give voice to the rest of us idiots living in “near occasions of sin”:

“College and education have very little to do with each other…Today, anyone can learn anything they want with the vast library system across the country and with the easy access of the internet.”

Exactly! If only this argument was around when my adviser informed me I still needed to complete my US History requirement senior year. But for reals you guys, I’ve learned much more from the comment section on ANY Youtube video than I EVER did in my Liberalism and Marxism class. Screw critical understanding of the political landscape of the last century, that cat playing with that monkey is ADORABLELY SMART. Also, do you guys wanna go to the public library with me and just really learn the hell out of everything?

“College may be necessary for the provider of a family depending on the vocation God is calling them to or for those who are called to the Priesthood, both of which are intended for men.”

You know what I want in my God? I want my God to choose who can serve him and spread his word. I mean, that’s pretty much the MAIN lesson I got out of Sunday School all of those years — that God is SUPER picky about who he wants to live and spread his message. Wait, hold on, that’s not right…

eve“…the day-to-day grind of a job is below the dignity of women… it’s like being a hired hand, as result of the fall and the penalty for original sin… But the penalty for the woman as a result of the fall was pain in childbirth, not to work.”

HOLD UP A MINUTE. You’re telling me we could have had babies pain free if we didn’t listen to that damn snake?

 

“Keeping a home, being a loving wife, and being a nurturing mother are of immeasurable dignity to a woman and not something to be farmed out to servants.  The feminist world has twisted this so that a job (career) appears elevated, and homemaking is denigrated.”

That’s SO weird, I was under the impression that an entire society founded on patriarchal order and an overvaluing of masculine qualities was the reason femininity  and domesticity were undervalued. You’re telling me homemaking was valued until us idiot women started getting jobs? You’ve GOT to be kidding me! And as a former nanny, thank you SO MUCH for that servant metaphor. Here I was using my inherently nurturing qualities to save some extra cash for my future family and all the while I could have been focusing my subservient energies on nurturing my man’s dreams!

It’s also so refreshing to hear this argument against feminism. I mean, I’ve never met a feminist that hasn’t threatened to kill me for wanting to be a mother some day. Do feminist mothers even exist? Probably not, because they’re too busy giving birth control pills to little kids! Amiright?!

“The indoctrination of the feminist culture and the practicing of a sexually promiscuous lifestyle severely cloud, practically blind that good judgment…Not having a degree frees her to enter into a marriage with proper roles in which her husband will provide for her and their children.  Christian marriage by definition does place her in a submissive role to her husband, but no one forces anyone to marry anyone.  She should go to the altar with full knowledge of what she’s entering into.”

“Often the reason for a girl going to college is the pressure of the society around her, including her parents.

First off, I’m just gonna say it, okay? Every feminist I’ve ever tried to have a conversation with has cut me off mid way to go have sex with someone. Promiscuity is just in their nature. It’s why they came to college — not to learn how to accurately maintain self-confidence in a male-dominated world, or how to articulate her beliefs in an educated manner. Feminists came to college to get laid, let’s just face it. They’re strung out on 60’s free love and they want to spread it around like Herpes!

sandwich godIf society would just stop putting all this pressure on us to follow our dreams and “get educated” through completing a college degree we’d finally be free to serve our man and start popping out babies after middle school like God intended (It’s when we get our girly period time, right?!). And man, sign me up for that Christian marriage thing — I’ve been looking for a good submissive role to sink my teeth into for months now! What’s that thing that Luke said again? Oh right: “So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets.” Certain situations, of course, are excluded from this teaching. Such as a tired man who just got home from work and REALLY needs his wife, who also worked all day raising his children, to make him a sandwich. (And God said, if you want him to put a ring on it, you must make him 300 sandwiches).

“Is a degree worth the loss of your daughter’s purity, dignity, and soul?”

SHIT. I knew all that weight I lost since college was a cop out — It was just my heavy sole leaving my loose, slutty body!

“Once she becomes sexually active with him, she releases hormones that mask his faults, and she remains in a dreamy state about him.  We can see why God would arrange things in such a way so that when in a proper state of holy matrimony, she would be less sensitive to his faults and thereby less tempted to be critical of him.”

This is some real scientific stuff here. I just don’t understand why I get so pissed when Matti plays with his hair if we’re having sex regularly. Are we not doing it right? Is there a way to make yourself emit more of this  “dreamy” hormone?!? Is it available in stores?

“..more and more women are coming forward to tell their stories of regret for having by-passed the more meaningful things in life to opt for the approval of feminists who cared nothing more about them than being statistics to reinforce their agenda.”

It’s true — every feminist I’ve ever come across is always so obsessed with her agenda. This agenda, that agenda — enough ladies, we get it, you’re on your period! I’ve certainly never met a feminist who wept for victims of rape, who bravely placed herself on display for the world to hear, to criticize and to learn from. I’ve also never met thousands of women who struggled against adversity to push the simple message of sexual equality to the forefront. Personally, I’ve never cried after desperately trying to explain to male friends that being a feminist didn’t mean I hated all men and all mothers.

Excuse me now while I go use the promiscuous skills I learned in college to seduce a married men out of going to church with his family.

Customer Service Karma and Becoming a “Gym Person”

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Anna has witnessed by bangs do the exact same thing (minus the man protein).

It’s as simple as when you wake up, go pee and then jump back in bed and spoon with your dog instead of staying awake. You pray you can get your shit together by 10:30 because at the moment, your right arm is entirely asleep and your hair is an enviable remake of Cameron Diaz’s in Something About Mary. Ughhh but there’s so many more episodes of Hell’s Kitchen to mindlessly stare at and having the queen bed to yourself for a few hours in the morning is just, everything.

This guilty, self-indulgent feeling is the mark of some serious karma coming your way. Feel bad about spending three hours of your life watching The Bachelorette? Of course you do. This week’s karma special: customer service.

***

“Where has she been the last few days?” is the question none of you are asking yourself right now and yet, I’m going to tell you. It all started with Groupon. Moving closer to my goal of a fulfilling career where I wear pencil skirts and Chiffon tops, I decided it was time to purchase the proper self styling tools — namely, a hair straightener. When I was an adorable four year-old camera leech, I had hair like Shirley Temple in the best way possible — all curls, no frizz. As an adult, my hair is more like Sarah Jessica Parker’s in Square Pegs.

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I’m happy that my life decisions have led me to a place where this split image can exist.

Like most services you pay for, you expect a package to arrive to its intended destination, especially when Groupon has already told you it’s been delivered. But somewhere in between pissing off everyone that works in my apartment’s office, getting to know Carol the USPS lady better than i’d like, Jim, also from USPS telling me I need to “open up an investigation,” and then giving me a non-working number to contact,  I started to feel like I wasn’t going to get my package but that I might finally get to engage in a revenge plot fantasy. So I did what any white girl with a dwindling savings account and business women aspirations would do: go buy a cheap straightener at Target.

***

Flash forward a bit to me impetuously trying to finish a post on Friday before Matti gets home from work. WordPress has always been there for me, how could it now be cutting out of connectivity, unable to load pictures, and unable to load the customer support page? The internet ganged up with karma and was sticking it’s tongue at me the only way the internet knows how: by choosing which websites it will functionally load like a security guard at the airport choosing which person to search.  That’s totally fine — I didn’t spend five hours on this post already or anything and I love dealing with technical issues more than most things… said nobody, ever.

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Even this cute little girl hates you, Time Warner Cable

I received an email (rather quickly) from my good friend WordPress telling me people with Time Warner Cable were having similar issues. Is Time Warner Cable a real company or is a big consumer April Fools joke? When I called up the big guys at TWC, aka Tim with customer support whose name was definitely not Tim, they told me that wireless internet is very “finicky” and do I have an ethernet hook up. Apparently TWC thinks 2001: A Space Odyssey is still a glimpse into the future because they are stuck in a pre 2000 dial-up, plug in internet world.

“You know what Tim? It’s weird but when I bought wireless internet I thought it meant that I would be provided with a working wireless connection. I must’ve missed that sales pitch when I chose your service: Our wireless is finicky but we still love your money! Should I assume every service you provide is “finicky” or is that just with the new and upcoming wireless technology?”

Time Warner Cable is so funny because it’s as if they don’t know how badly they suck. You’d think after losing CBS they’d be a little more self-aware. Tim told me a representative would be by in a few days to put a bandaid on my internet.

***

Cut to me on the couch watching Gordon Ramsey tell his contestants to piss off as I shove an almond milk ice cream bar down my gullet and contemplate the amount of ways you can cook beef cheeks.

“So I guess I’m not gonna go to the gym tonight,” I said out loud to myself, looking at Matti, as I grab and squeeze my tummy fat like a stress ball. Three hours earlier I told Matti he wasn’t allowed to not let me go to the gym that night — I think my overuse of negatives may have confused him into inaction. I GUESS I should also take responsibility for my own fitness…

pictures-gyms-funny_4615978502391325So I did. The next day I went to the gym and gleefully realized they have the machines with the TVs on them. After running on the treadmill for a mile, to the surprise of myself and everyone that has ever known me, I went to the elliptical and realized the ear plug jack worked! Karma be damned — I was about to burn off the 300 calories of pure olive oil I consumed that day while watching the Kardashian/Jenners pretend to be a family on a farcically posh Greece vacation. While I subconsciously tried to out-elliptical the girl next to me as we both laughed out loud individually at Kendall’s spoiled rich girl tantrum, I had an epiphany.

I always hated running and I hated every person that ever had the audacity to claim they loved doing it. I’m sorry, I don’t believe you and if I wanted to clear my head I’d take a bath. But for first time in my life I had muscles in my stomach that were almost visible and I wasn’t going to let that change! I realized I didn’t need to have a romantic parisian love affair with running or exercising to enjoy it — I just had to be watching trashy reality television (or Shark Week). I knew I would be back at the gym when I got offended by the girl next to me not wiping down her machine after she smeared her girl sweat all over the machine.

I stopped in the mailroom on my way out of the gym for no real reason besides I wanted the lady inside to see how exhausted I looked drenched in sweat to solidify my gym experience and as I opened the box I saw a slip with the words I had been waiting two weeks to see: You have a package in the office.

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Nailed it, karma.