Friday, February 5, 2016

Love Letter to Law & Order: SVU


Law & Order: SVU has been on television for 17 Seasons - the age of legal consent in New York State!  What?  Don't act like you're not in love with SVU, and don't act shocked!  It's been 17 seasons of twisted plotlines, tense standoffs, mistaken identity, snatched babies and jaw-dropping twists.  SVU is the longest-lasting spinoff in the Law & Order franchise, the only one left standing, and that definitely doesn't mean that people don't like it, if you catch my drift. 


So why do we love SVU so damn much?

Yo that's my neighborhood!  Woot woot!
 

This New Yorker loves that it's close to home.  A recent episode showed a (doomed) kid walking to my subway station and I thought, HEY, that's my neighborhood!  Sure enough...kid lived in Greenpoint!  I was all "I know that laundromat!  I know that subway entrance!"


Live in New York long enough, and there's going to be a kidnapped kid's body "found in your building" on an episode of Law & Order: SVU.  Law of averages.  Kinda makes you feel like you're the only girl in the world.

Yo that's my birthday!  Olivia Benson said my birthday!


Law & Order: SVU is "ripped from the headlines" but it's always ahead of its time, tackling serious social issues year ahead of their mainstream notice.  Even when cases are "ripped from the headlines," they always try to twist the storyline to make you think.  By the time Dick Wolf's name appears on the final shot, you're left to wonder "Hey, why don't we have laws protecting trans individuals from violence and discrimination?  Why don't we have laws to punish people for posting revenge porn and doxing?"  Making us aware and making us care is what SVU does best.

Yo that's my name  KYLO REN just said my name!


SVU also educates about safe sex, violence against women, and other important issues.  Little asides to the story tell us how to avoid contracting and spreading diseases (one thing I learned from M.E. Warner: condoms for oral!) and teach us about the statistics on violence against women (Benson taught me that a woman's risk of partner violence increases while she's pregnant, I DID NOT KNOW THAT).  SVU has taught me how to be a better witness and what to do in an emergency (scratch deep, get DNA!).  Many episodes show victims being walked through the "rape kit" process - why?  I can only imagine this is intentional, to demystify the process of reporting a rape and encourage victms to come forward by showing them what to expect. 


Law & Order: SVU, thank you.  Congratulations on turning 17!  In four more seasons, I'll buy you a drink!

Wednesday, February 3, 2016

The First Time A Joke Blew Up In My Face



I live to tell jokes.  Always have, always will.


Fact: at a party, an acquaintance pulled me aside to tell me he admired my Twitter hashtag.  That compliment meant more to me than shaking the school board president's hand at my High School graduation.  Being laughed at - or with - is the highest compliment I could possibly receive (aside from a retweet, hollllaaaa).


You see, it's hard out here for a jokester.  Ask any stand-up comedian who's ever bombed a set:  there's nothing worse than putting yourself out on the line to blank stares, blinking, a throat-clearing cough and "actually, I am planning to vote for Trump."  SCREEECH, record scratch, cue the furious backpedaling and apologies.  Shit, I've had so many jokes blow up in my face (this weekend alone) I should start wearing protective eyewear.


You never forget your first time, and I haven't forgotten the first time one of my HILARIOUS EDGY JOKES blew up in my face.  I would've been 7 or 8, and my summer vacation revolved around playing with my younger brother on the swingset in my backyard.  From the top of the slide, we could see a little girl, about our age, playing alone in the next-door-neighbor's backyard.  "Hey!" we shouted over the fence, because that's what you do in 1992: "Come play with us!"


We opened the gate for Polly, an only child my brother's age (6?), and invited her to partake in our swingset.  Our neighbors were her grandparents, she was visiting them for the summer.  But enough introductions!  It was time to throw down some sick rhymes:


"I see London, I see France, I see Meghan's underpants!"  Polly shouted. 


Well!  This was highly improbable, given that I was a very modest dresser as a child, and would likely have been wearing long pants and a turtleneck in August. 


"I'm rubber, you're glue, whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you!"  I retorted.  Drop mic, we out.


Don't ask me why it went down like this, this was the way kids talked in the early nineties.  We didn't have Twitter or Facebook as outlets for our profound little thoughts.  We had swingsets.  Do today's kids still taunt each other about their underwear?:


"I see London, I see France, I see Zayden's underpants are SO last season!  Does your mom even know how to lean in, bro?"

"Suck it, Quayden, your mom buys your underwear at GAP Kids because she's so dumb, she isn't even aware of the rampant human rights violations in the overseas garment industry!"

"Woah, Splayden, don't get your genetically-modified cotton briefs in a bunch!"


And, back to scene:  my brother, myself, and Polly were swingin' and slidin', trading "see your underpants" and "I'm rubber you're glue" around and around like some really uninspired slam poetry MeetUp when I was struck by an idea for the ULTIMATE joke:


"I see London, I see France, I SEE POLLY'S UNDERPANTS ON THE CLOTHESLINE!!!"


SCREEEECH.  Time stopped.  My brother froze midway down the slide.  Polly was stuck in mid-air on the swing.  Staring.  Blinking.  I have come to know that face quite well now: it is the horror-stricken face of a joke gone terribly, terribly wrong.


In what has gone down in history as the first time I ever told a joke so offensive it literally caused a friendship to crumble, Polly siltently dismounted the swing and walked calmly to the gate of our fence, lifted the latch, closed the door behind her, and disappeared into her grandparents' house.


Aha.  Polly can dish it out, but she can't take it.


Would you be surprised to hear that we never spoke again?  Playing in our respective yards, side-by-side, for the rest of that summer and even more summers to come.  Polly holds a grudge, you guys.


If you're waiting for a tidy moral to this story,
I'm sorry, it's not comingI'm not going to tell you that I learned never to tell jokes again.  I'm not going to say I grew up and learned the meaning of the word 'tact.Nope.  Fact is, I just dropped this awkward memory here to prove that I've always been damaged in this way: unable to read the situation, feel the room, watch my mouth, whatever. 

Monday, February 1, 2016

Currently... in February 2016




FEELING:  The never-ending cold has passed!  But not before I "passed" it to my boyfriend!  Aww, shucks.  Well, now we're both feeling better and it is glorious not to be sick anymore!



WATCHING:
  Alternating between Flavor of Love and Law and Order: SVU because they inspire me - no really!  I wrote about reality TV and feminism last week, stay tuned for my NYC love letter to SVU this week!  If Flavor Flav is your problematic fave, or if you are hungry like Dick Wolf, you'll need to check these posts out!


LISTENING TO:  I had a rough day this past week and played "Lost Little Girl" by Siouxsie and the Banshees on repeat like a million times.  But the real story in music news is, at No Lights No Lycra, I pulled my right calf freaking out on the DJ.  They played "Start Wearing Purple" by Gogol Bordello back-to-back with "Take A Chance on Me" by ABBA, so I basically jumped up and down for 8 minutes straight or something like that.  It took me five days to be able to walk again.  Send me help in the form of leg stretches so this doesn't happen again:







READING:
  Feminist blogs!  You guys have no idea how happy you make me.  For years I googled helplessly, "Funny feminist blogs," and  lamented the lack of the category on Bloglovin'.  Thank you to Little Yellow Butterflies, Big Fashionista, and A Tiny Mew, to name just a few of the awesome blogs I've discovered this month that have made me want to hug my laptop to my bosom and yell "SISTERS!!!!"Beginner-blogger me could only have dreamt one day to read such thought-provoking and honest content in the blogosphere!  You guys are the greatest!  Check them out and go follow!    


THINKING ABOUT:  So many ideas!  I have so many drafts started in my drafts folder, emails filled with video ideas, Twitter jokes in drafts waiting for "the right moment."  I'm bursting with creativity lately and I'm so happy about it!


EATING:  Boyfriend is obsessed with fish lately.  He's been picking up frozen fish and cooking it (he's the greatest for these and many more reasons) for dinners during the week.  Mahi Mahi burgers, Barramundi fillets, cod chunks (which was tastier than it sounds, and I know, it sounds a bit off-putting).! 


LOOKING FORWARD TO: 
Valentines Day!  After Halloween, it's my second-favourite Holiday!  I think I just like the color red?  Call me a weirdo but I love seeing all the hearts and pink and flowers in stores.  I walked into Rite Aid and their Valentines display is up front, and they were playing "Linger" by The Cranberries, and I squealed out loud (then apologized to the startled cashier) and screamed "IT IS SO ROMANTIC IN HERE!!!"  Love and romance are my favourite things in life (they're free haha) so of course I would love a holiday celebrating all the mushy stuff! Who's with me?


MAKING ME HAPPY:  Getting out and exploring, even though it is quite slushy.  Having my ukulele re-strung and tuned (oh boy!)
Trader Joe's truffle cheese (O-o)!  Lastly, shout-out to the peaches at Femnasty - I could gush for hours about how smart, bold, and clever they are and how thrilled I am to be a part of the team but OH HEY, I already did that!  I can't tell you how good it feels to be doing something I love and believe in for such a supportive and encouraging group of people!  If you wanna read some wild stuff, you gotta check it out, guys!



Friday, January 29, 2016

Can You Be A Feminist And LOVE Reality TV?




Can you be a feminist and - YES.  Shhh.  YES YOU CAN.  You can be a feminist and do whatever you want.


But.



I looooooove Reality TV - especially dating shows.  My favourite dating shows are of the "_____ of Love" oeuvre.  The challenges are over-the-top ridiculous (Mud Bowl!), the glitz and glamour is outrageous (leopard print pool table much?), and the celebrity angle is so kitschy!  Flav! Bret! New York! DAISY!  Not gonna lie, Rock of Love is my major #HairGoals, big time.  Love me some Heather, love some Goldie.  But...






Sigh.  You know, I'm mad, but I'm not mad, you feel me?


I can only imagine how hard it is to be on one of these shows.  Dating is hard enough in a normal situation!  Add in the fact that you're 'competing' against a dozen or more other women!  Forget just trying to make a connection with someone and decide if you like them, you've got physically gruelling "challenges," alcohol flowing freely, late nights and early mornings, one-on-one interviews with producers egging you on to say something that'll make "good television," aw, shoot.  I don't think I could keep my head on straight, to be honest! 


By the same token, nobody is obligated to be a "role model," even if they're on television!  They're not here to be shining beacons of progressive feminism, they're, as they always say, "here for [insert name of D-list former mega-star recording artist]."  And holy cow, nobody's perfect!  You do the best with what you have, and when you learn better, you do better.  Watch the "reunion specials" and you'll see a whole different cast of women, apologizing to each other and acting like old Army buddies.  After all, they've been through some S*H*I*T* together.


So how can a foaming-at-the-mouth liberal capital-F Feminst like me enjoy watching these shows so damn much?  I have a couple of ideas how...


Recognize the Bad:  "It was really uncalled for when Jes told the producers that Heather was dressed like 'a cheap slut.'  With her blonde hair and deep tan, that baby blue halter dress was really stunning on her.  What Heather wears has no bearing on the kind of person she is, nor is it bad to be a 'slut' anyway."  I actually have a lot of fun turning the negatives into positives.  I think it's good practice for life. 


Forgive:  "It has to be a really stressful thing to have feelings for someone and try to date them and get to know them in a contrived situation like this.  I know I don't handle jealousy very well, myself.  I'm sure she'll regret saying that to the cameras when this show airs, and it will probably be hard for her to watch."  Seriously, watch the reunion specials.  Watch the host's face fall when (s)he reminds the girls with serious beefs how they told producers they wanted to "kick her ass" and the girls wave it off and say, "Actually, I want to apologize..."  The look on their faces when they realize they've failed to manipulate the women into fighting is priceless.


Applaud the Good: 
"Pumpkin and Hoopz are really happy for Goldie after her solo date.  These women all show maturity in the face of an absurd situation and don't let the competition negatively affect their friendship.  I'm really impressed!"  Believe it or not, there's a a strong contingent of women on these shows who make great role models.  They don't apologize for their sexuality, strive to have honest relationships with the "bachelor," and have everyone's best interests at heart.  I still miss you, Rodeo.


Realize that "Reality" is not Real:  "The manufactured drama between these girls is just as ridiculous as the notion that a helicopter ride to a picnic on top of a mountain at sunset is a typical first date.  Competing in a roller derby to prove you're the best potential mate is good entertainment, but it's definitely not a reflection of real life."  Matrix time:  if this show is skewed to present a hevily edited for of "reality," what other media is presenting only one heavily-edited and biased side of the story?  Kerplewwwww mind blown.


Watch for Mysogyny "Easter Eggs":  "So there's a stripper pole in the living room of Bret's mansion, ostensibly for the girls to get up and dance on itAnd yet Heather, who is a professional pole dancer, got kicked off the show because Bret didn't think he could trust a stripper with his heart?  Why are the girls rewarded for being strippers one minute, and punished for being strippers the next?  This doesn't make any sense."  Now that you're aware, pay close attention to the "man behind the curtain."  Watch for responses that begin with "Yeah, I do think..." and you'll see exactly where the producers are feeding them lines to say on TV.  



Ultimately, I'm still going to enjoy reality TV, especially Flavor of Love, Rock of Love, Bridezillas, I Love New York, Daisy of Love, Frank the Entertainer's Basement of Love... *pant pant* so on and so forth.  Hey, nobody's forcing you to watch the shows, why not let me have my fun?  No judgement! And besides, as they say, "I'm not here to make friends..."  No, I'm here to watch some Reality TV.

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Exciting Announcement!




I'm so excited to announce that I'm writing advice for Femnasty


I've been a huge fan of the website ever since last fall, when the Basic Bitch article caught my eye and tbh, my heart exploded.  I was all, OMG, these girls totally get it.  I am so proud to be working alongside the team who are so positive, thoughtful, and brave when sharing their thoughts about body hair, labiaplasty, mean girls, dating and more!  If you love reading bold and clever feminist rhetoric, you need to check it out!


Today I posted my first-ever advice to a reader-submitted question:  read all about the Sucky Venn Diagram of Coworker Friend Crush Suck today!


While you're at it, check out my first column over there about breakups and heartbreak and the dreaded "line:"  How To Deal With The Worst Breakup Line Ever !!!



Yes, that last one is based on a true story!  Are you brave enough to spill your guts to an Internet stranger?  I will answer your queries with no names and no judgement!  Sassy and anonymous advice awaits you courtesy of meghansara@femnasty.com !  Tell me all your secrets, and I'll tell you no lies!  Thank you to everyone who has been so supportive and awesome here on my blog, I hope you'll enjoy seeing me get 'nasty' over on Femnasty!!!




Wednesday, January 27, 2016

Be the Nerd AND Date the Nerd: Why Nerds Do It Better


If you logged onto OkCupid in 2013 and searched for 'women' in their late 20's in the New York area, you've probably seen this baby's face:



All T no shade, I pulled a lot of nerd with my sonic screwdriver photo.  Don't hate, appreciate...


Nerd.  Geek.  Dork.  Whatever your vernacular for that Comic Book Guy, the chick with the back brace, the kid with the ukuleleThe generic slander used to malign the smart kids who went to prom "in a group."


For years we were forced to hide our passions for Star Trek and Dungeons and Dragons from the worldAnd then there was The Big Bang...Theory.  Suddenly, nerds were cool!  On television!  At least, in "theory."  The Nerd Renaissance is finally taking off, and I couldn't be more happy!


Facebook CEO and father Mark Zuckerberg recently replied to a commenter on his own Facebook post.  The commenter said she encouraged her granddaughters to "date the nerd" because that nerd might turn out to be successful later in life.  Zuckerberg told the commenter to encourage her granddaughters to be the nerd, to take ownership of their own success!  YES!  Nerds totally rule!  I totally agree: I think you should be a nerd AND date a nerd!  Not because dating nerds increases your chance of marrying rich, ew, get out of here with that misogynistic old crap.  Be the nerd AND date nerds because we're awesome:


1.  Nerds have interests!
  ever go on a blind date with someone and ask "What do you do for fun?" and get this response:  "Oh uh drinking with my friends, hanging out"?  WOW.  Delete that number from your phone, that person is boooooring.  Whereas, go on a date with a nerd and ask for their interests, and you may find yourself planning a follow-up date to laser karaoke bowling, a live film event, the museum with the world's largest public collection of David Cassidy lunchboxes?  Nerds aren't afraid to have interests, and that's what makes them interesting people.


2.  Nerds always have something to say!  Ugh, breaking the ice with a stranger on a date can be paaaaainful.  Unless, of course, that stranger has an encyclopaedic knowledge of dinosaurs.  Then it's awesome.  No awkward silences when you can teach them about AI in artificial limbs, or they can bring you up to speed on the latest in space research.  All those interests make nerds voracious learners and those people will never have a boring conversation about how slow the trains are.  Zzzzzzz.....


3. Nerds fight for what they believe in!
  Ever see a pair of nerds throw down in a Marvel vs. DC argument?  Star Wars vs. Star Trek?  Nerds have strong convictions and fight for them - you'd better believe it!  You want a passionate companion who will stand up for you, or a sparring partner who'll heat up your evenings debating which is the best Doctor, 10 or 11?  It's totally 10, by the way, and you'd know that if you were really a nerd!  Sorry, sorry, I just get really passionate about this!


4.  Nerd know romance!
  Comic movie geeks know Spidey 'n' MJ's upside-down kiss.  Anime geeks swoon over Seiya's passion for Usagi.  Buffy and Angel - or is it Buffy and Spike?  Well, you get the idea.  Half of what nerds squee about is romance - hey, "shipping" doesn't refer to the Battlestar Galactica, after all!  Why do you think "fan fiction" exists?  Nothing matches a nerd's rich romantic fantasy life - and other nerds get that.


So whether you're looking for a "companion" (Doctor Who) or a "companion" (Firefly), I advise you to let you geek flag fly.  Drop a Star Trek reference into casual conversation and throw your drink in their face if they don't take the bait.  Cuz you're a nerd, baby.  And you deserve better.


Tuesday, January 26, 2016

#WomenNotObjects ALMOST Gets It Right




Participation ribbon time:  You had me until the 2:08 mark, #WomenNotObjects.


This video appealing (to men, ostensibly) to treat women as more than objects means well and almost gets it right - until it (HERE WE GO AGAIN) reminds the viewer (men, ostensibly) that "I am your..." in order to get their message across.


This video's message goes from :



"I am NOT an object!  My body is not my worth!"



to:


"I am some man's daughter/mother/co-worker/boss.  My relationship to a man is my worth."





I wrote about this before in response to some catcalling videos where hidden cameras showed dads and boyfriends the harassment their daughters/girlfriends endured, as if to teach them "Wow, aren't you pissed someone is treating your woman like that?"  Because it's too much, I guess, to ask a man not to harass women, we have to remind them that women still belong to them, and that you don't treat another man's property like that.  Biblical.  Like, really.  Isn't that the Ten Commandments?  Exodus 20:17 says

"You shall not covet your neighbor's house;
you shall not covet your neighbor's wife
or his male servant or his female servant
or his ox or his donkey or anything that
belongs to your neighbor
."

Ooooh y'all got an atheist quoting scripture, you know I'm pissed.  That's how old this idea is, and I don't think it holds water anymore.  I want to believe women can say "No," and not have to open their wallet and show photos of their dad, uncle, husband, son to prove they matter.  What about just being a human?  This was the problem I had with that popular "Dear Daddy" video as well:






Is it so far-fetched to accept that men and women (and all non-binary and in-between folks as well, obviously, #IntersectionalOrDie) are all people?  Humans, deserving of human dignity?


What do y'all think?




Monday, January 25, 2016

SNOW SNOW OMG SNOW IN BROOKLYN


New Yorkers are known for being three things:
  • rich
  • sexy
  • cynical


Okay, so two out of three ain't bad (and FYI, I'm broke as hell).  So when this huuuuuuge snowstorm was predicted, I figured it was all hype.  I didn't think it would really happen, and as such, I didn't bother to prepare for it.


Well, I didn't prepare much:






We would be okay for 12 beers, or eight rolls of extra-soft, whichever came first.  I still didn't think anything would actually happen, though, because when I went to bed on Friday night, we had dry pavement.  Dry pavement!  And then we woke up on Saturday to this:





Snow clinging to the screen of the windows, blocking all the light.  My succulents and I were all very confused and alarmed. 





By early afternoon, people (not me) started to panic.  Trains were shut down.  Traffic ordered off the roads.  Even CitiBike ceased service!  Why doncha just TAKE AWAY OUR BAGELS, Jonas!!!  With an eye on our cupboard, still poorly stocked from our vacation, we decided to bundle way up and walk to the grocery store.





I'm making that face because the snow is blinding me.  I can't see, my boots are slippery, and I hurt my arm falling.  I didn't actually FALL, mind you, I just slipped and flailed my arms until I pulled a muscle in my shoulder.  Bet I looked HILARIOUS!  YES!  When danger is imminent, my slapstick comedy instincts kick in!  Of course.


We got to the grocery store to find it CLOSED.  Bae tried to help push a guy's car which was stuck in the parking lot...for all we know, he's still trying to dig it out!





Luckily, the cute little juice place on the opposite corner was open and fully stocked of beer, chips, and Talenti gelato.  Luckily, the wine store also appears to be open, so if we decide we want Brie and Riesling later, we'll be fine.

Yes, I am buried up to my knees.


See, here's the thing you don't know.  Everyone knows New Yorkers are sexy cynics.  But what you don't know is we totally win at bad weather!!!  New York City having a snow-day is like a snow day at college - everything you want is there, and it's an excuse to PARTAY.  You see pictures of snow-covered streets on the news, taxis swallowed up in huge drifts, people cross-country skiing to the bodega.  But dude, you forget that we also walk everywhere all the time.  Telling us not to drive is like telling us not to ride our purple rhinoceros to the Thai place for Massaman Curry (oh yeah, they're still open)!  I know guys, please don't throw your Sorel boots at my head, but we're having a total blast over here with snowball fights in the streets below us, warm and toasty with our snacky bounty above. 


Reporting live from Storm Central - hell, what am I saying?  Live from PARTY Central, over and out!  Don't believe me?  This video is pretty typical of what goes on in the New York City I know.  Hilarious!  Give it a watch:








Sunday, January 24, 2016

Open Letter to Cosmopolitan UK - Let Me Introduce You To A Blogger


Look, CosmoUK!  A Blogger, drinking coffee!  Woah woah wait, call off the hounds, I only wanna talk to you.




Okay so by now we all know what you, Cosmopolitan UK, said about bloggers, there's no need for me to even link to the article to give it more pageviews. 


Maybe there are shocking cultural differences between blogs here in America and blogging in the UK - in fact, I'm sure there are - but nothing in this article made any sense to me.  Have you, CosmoUK, ever seen a blog?  Or are you just scared that the grassroots creativity and talent behind these blogs is beginning to eclipse your once monolithic presence  as the most trusted source for all things beauty advice, personal essay, fashion spreads, and sassy girl fun?


Oh Cosmo, the world is changing.  You're scared of being irrelevent.  So you do what any (Donald Trump) would do:  launch an exhaustive smear campaign against the people who are making you irrelevent.  What's the saddest part of this whole ordeal?


As a blogger of six plus years, I can deal with someone not liking me.  I'm not in this industry to "[try]
desperately hard to impress" anyone, your words.  Holla at me, ex-Cosmo-girls turned bloggers if YOU grew up reading the glossy, fun magazine and dreamed of being a beauty editor.  Or crafting your own fashion spreads.  Maybe you dreamed that other girls would reach out to you with their problems for you to offer advice!  You wanted to share your embarassing moments, your personal struggles, you wanted to learn and share more about the world around you!


You buy an IP address and start small.  Your audience grows, your writing sharpens, your friends buy you drinks because they're so inspired.  Where is all this "free
prosecco" coming from, CosmoUK?  When you figure it out, could you mail some to my house?


And while you're at it, YES PLEASE  "
WhatsApp us the link, so we can read up on our competition," if that means what I think it means?  The whole point of blogging isn't spewing out our inner struggles to the void, it's the community!  Because we are decidedly not, as you depict us, back-biting shallow mean girls in a desperate race to the top where There Can Be Only One Blogger and she is the Highlander.  Bull-fucking-shit.  I know you've never met a blogger in your life, CosmoUK, but even the slightest bit of research (journalistic integrity?) would unearth Twitter chats, blogging circles, RTs and supportive comments from One Blogger To Another.  We - actual bloggers, wave from the gallery, HELLO! - really like each other.  We're not shallow, petty assholes who shit on people we view as competition, CosmoUK - that's what you just did.  The Mirror Selfie has Two Faces, bitch.


Gotta hand it - that's pretty smart.  Pick a group of people with a lot of online influence and mock them out of their own value.  If they complain about the mistreatment, you can stand back and point to them and say "This is proof that they are shallow and frivolous and too sensitive!"  It's a genius play, in fact, one that has been used to keep marginalized groups down for centuries.  The old "You were asking for it by doing X" move.  If you didn't want people to make fun of you, why would you start a blog on the internet?  STOP HITTING YOURSELF, bloggers!  You asked for this attention, now you don't want it?


CosmoUK, They ONLY - ONLY thing you got right about me was that I drink coffee.  You're struggling.  Get some help.  Try some guest bloggers.  Maybe you'll find out why we're kicking your ass in pageviews and reach.  We don't have to be enemies, CosmoUK - if blogging has taught me ANYTHING - it's that women are best when they stick together.  I thought I learned that from your magazine a long time ago, but apparently, I had you all wrong.



Signed,


Just another coffee-drinking shallow nobody Blogger



Saturday, January 23, 2016

Introducing: the Femternet!


Ladies, ladies, ladies!  Tired of logging on to the Internet for personal, educational or professional use only to be inundated by the following 'minor' annoyances?:

  • mansplaining
  • unwanted sexual advances
  • targeted harassment from complete strangers
  • death threats
  • doxing
  • having to move your family because of doxing
  • losing your job over targeted online harassment
  • sexual harassment
  • unsolicited photographs of penises


Unfortunately, North American courts have upheld that "free speech" protects a man's right to relentlessly harass and threaten a woman as much as he wants, and it's time to do something about that!  That's why we created the Femternet (patent pending)


Yes, it only takes a few hours to set up the Femternet, but once you're there, you'll reap the benefits of a LIFETIME of harassment-free Internet use!  How?  It's simple!


The Femternet is a female- and female-identified-exclusive Internet space.  That's it!  Imagine the Internet, without all the men!  Pretty crazy idea, right?


Without men on the Femternet, its users are able to complete a variety of tasks completely uninhibited by the threat of harassment from men!  The possibilities are 'virtually' endless!

  • send emails
  • research
  • look up directions
  • purchase concert tickets
  • have opinions on social media
  • share photographs with friends and family
  • send a photo of your dick to a stranger along with her Grandma's address and a threat to mouth-rape her until she chokes and dies

HA!  That last one was a trick!  You can't do that on the Femternet, because if you did, that would mean you're a man, and the first (and actually, only) rule of the Femternet is NO MEN ALLOWED.


So, are you sold yet?  Well, I haven't even mentioned the best part!  The Femternet will be a completely cost-free, self-sustaining service courtesy of its users, the 51% minority of the human population.  Why?  It turns out, women actually don't enjoy being harassed, and they're willing to do almost anything to be able to use the internet without:

  • being pestered for nude photographs
  • being called "sensitive" by ongoing unrepentant harassers
  • family pets murdered by strangers who searched their personal information online
  • being told to "get off the internet" if they can't handle the above because they're "too sensitive"


Isn't it time you "got off the internet"?  Now you actually fucking can, thanks to the Femternet, patent pending, available now only in your wildest fantasies!

Friday, January 22, 2016

Joshua Tree National Park, California

 

You down with OPV, Other People's Vacations?  I hope so, because you're about to get photo-dumped!  I've just flown back from California and BOY are my arms tired! 



We stayed in a dome that was decorated like the Brady Bunch vacation hideaway - swinging 60's baby!  Like Austin Powers' dome-away-from-dome. 



I love the desert.  Desert and me are like peas and carrots.  Ever since last summer and Reno/Burning Man, I've loved the desert.  Love love love it.  And you know how much I love cacti.  And cacti make googly-hearts at me, too!



Gratuitous desert pics ahoy!











Woah!  Bonus for scrolling all the way to the bottom!  You thought I was all about that desert, but just before we left California, we hit up Venice Beach and saw the Pacific Ocean!  Here's a surprise beach shot TOTALLY not staged of the sand at Venice Beach!



Wednesday, January 20, 2016

No Mo' "Hoes"

Source: lesmis.com


Whore, Prostitute, Skank, Ho'Bag, Tramp, Hooker, Lady of the Evening, Hussy, Ho.


Can we seriously just stop?When I was 13, I thought being a prostitute would be the coolest job ever.  I had just learned what a prostitute was by listening to the soundtrack for Les Miserables (Fantiiiine! Lovely Ladies!) and I thought the prostitutes were the best part of Act I.  They get to wear makeup and feather boas, they sing a kickass up-tempo romp of a song full of naughty jokes!  The prostitutes took care of each other - the Original London Cast Recording of "Lovely Ladies" features a line where a woman on her period confides in a colleague who, in turn, bolsters her confidence. 


Maybe this is a narrow view of 19th Century French prostitutes, but I WAS THIRTEEN YEARS OLD!  My knowledge of sex could be reduced to two points that I picked up from church and musical theatre: 

1) it was fun and
2) it was absolutely forbidden. 

The idea of being free to have sex, break the rules, and make money in the deal sounded totally sweet.  I wanna remind you, I was thirteen.


So what's wrong with being a prostitute anyway?  NOT talking about girls who are forced into prostitution or non-consensual sex slavery.  What's wrong with choosing to be a sex worker?


I think it breaks down to the fact that we're still uncomfortable with women having sex.  Still can't get over the fact that women have sex.  I hate to play the "Yo Momma" card but ... you wouldn't even be here if it weren't for the fact that your mom had sex.  Look around you and pick five people at random:  none of those people would exist were it not for their moms having sex.  Call you mother and ask her about it!  No, maybe you shouldn't do that.  Let's just have it one more time for the cheap seats? { YOUR VERY EXISTENCE IS THE RESULT OF A WOMAN HAVING SEX! }  Women have sex.  Get over it.


So now that we've established that women have sex and it's not the end of the world, what exactly is your problem with prostitutes?  The fact that they take money in exchange for sex?  Clutch pearls and gasp!  They're just mechanically performing a service involving their bodies for cash!  How cold, how emotionless, how callous!  Okay, so anyone who performs a physical service for someone they don't love in exchange for cash has to stop!  Let's get rid of manicurists, massage therapists, hairstylists, chiropractors, yoga instructors!  How dare you sell your body's services for cash?  That's so immoral!  Mercy on your soul!!!


Here's a solid gold question:  How come we keep slinging "whore" around as an insult to women we just don't like, women who don't act the way we want them to?  It doesn't make any sense.  NO, REALLY, it doesn't make any sense.  Think about the last woman you called a whore:  why?  Because of her clothes?  Wearing yoga pants in the airport doesn't mean a woman accepts cash in exchange for the performance of sexual acts.  That's ridiculous!


Unless you caught her with one hand on a wad of bills and her other hand on a stranger's member, you can not use the word "whore" to describe her.  Unless she was wearing revealing clothing, AND handed you a business card with her name on it, her cell phone number and the heading "Sexual Services Performed for Cash," she is NOT a "whore."  Unless you stumbled across her LinkedIn profile and saw she was wearing a low-cut blouse, AND listed her professional skills as "handies and blowies" and graduated from Mount MenForMoney University, then maybe she is a whore, but so fucking what?


Hey.  I get it.  Comedy, right?  It's a joke!  We're all feminists here (dear blog I hope we are).  We don't have anything against sex workers, we support all women in their choices and celebrate womyns' sexual liberation!  When I call my friends "whores," I mean it as a joke!  It's not like people ever miss the point of jokes, or that using "whore" as an insult  reinforces the idea that it's bad to be a whore oh wait...


Bottom line, if I hear you using the word "whore" "slut" "ho" or "skank" to tear someone down, I'm going to assume two things about you: 


Obviously, you don't respect women.  If you don't respect whores, you don't respect women having sex, how can you respect your own mother (who, we've already established, has had sex)?  I will respect you a little less because you don't have respect for women, and people who don't give respect don't deserve to GET respect, GOT IT?



Secondly, you're an idiot.  You don't understand what the word "whore" means if you're using it to describe a woman in a V-neck shirt, you've merely heard a word, didn't bother to understand the concept, and parrot it back.  Your word choice is so uncreative - searching for an insult and that's all you come up with?  Read some Shakespeare, pick up some insults, speak ENGLISH. 


Okay so maybe you're not ready to put on the red light yourself, Roxanne, that's fine.  Nobody's asking you to BECOME a prostitute, just to respect other people's choice to do what they want with their life.  And to stop throwing that word around like it's an insult!  Pick a new word!  Any word!  Tell me your new go-to insult word in the comments!  (I like "raccoon" personally).  I'm not crazy.  I just don't think it's cool to tear other people down by calling them a whore.  Maybe next time, cool it with the judgemental attitude and don't jump to the "whore" insult, and you may just find that girl who you didn't like is in fact... a Lovely Lady.

Source








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