Friday, September 29, 2006

excellent definition of feminism:

"It’s about political action on behalf of a class of people who are culturally, socially, politically, inellectually, physically, and violently oppressed, impoverished, abused, enslaved, objectified, raped and murdered. I tell you whut.”

Thanks to Twisty.

Thursday, September 28, 2006

Savage Love - September 27, 2006 | The A.V. Club

Savage Love - September 27, 2006 | The A.V. Club

I kind of want to rant about Dan Savage's suggestion that a woman who's attracted to a man who can't be bothered to pick up after himself just, you know, suck it up and BE HIS FUCKING MAID, but you know what? Others will handle that, and with much more skill than I care to throw at the problem. Personally I think she needs to refer the guy to a good maid service.

Instead, I'm interested in the exchange farther down the page, where a fat girl writes to Dan with the problem that lots of boys want to fuck her, but none want to date her. Or, to be blunt: they won't be seen in public with her. Dan's answer starts down the right path, wherein he explains that young men are so concerned with other people's opinions that they are embarrassed to be seen dating the people they actually are attracted to. He got it partly right, and for that I applaud him. However, herewith, an open letter to "No More Dater Haters":

My chubby sister, you have one important lesson to learn, and it is a very hard & depressing one, but listen closely: A man who wants to fuck you doesn't necessarily LIKE you. In fact, some men who don't like you at all want to fuck you. They're all of a breed: racists who dig interracial porn; homophobes who are repressed homosexuals; woman haters who fuck women; and fat-girl haters who want to fuck fat girls. The time is now to kick all of the motherfuckers out of the bedroom who will not be seen with you in public. Demand that your lovers also date you, and you'll find they break down into two groups:

1. The ones who bail because really, they don't like you. Put a boot in their ass and put 'em on the Do Not Call list. They're no loss.

2. The ones who really do like you but are so concerned with what other people will think that they are afraid to be seen dating a fat girl. These boys need to GROW UP. If you really like one of these boys, tell him he needs to butch up, grow a spine, and be man enough to stop cowering in fear that his buddies might snicker because he's not dating a barbie doll. If he's not mature enough to do this, you know what to do: dump the motherfucker already.

Now, phase two: what next? I have a few suggestions. First, consider moving southward if you aren't already here. Practically everybody is fat & happy in the south, and you see men of all sizes dating women of all sizes. I've never been so suitor-less as when I lived in the snowy north. Down south, not so much a problem.

Second, date black men, latinos, or men of any race who grew up in working class families. I find there's a lot less fat-hating & fat-fearing in these communities. Your average middle-class white boy is a waste of time. Hardly any of them are smart enough to escape their training and do something that might be "weird" to their friends & families. They're more interested in appearance than substance, so let 'em date the skinny princesses.

Third, the corollary to Dan's advice: if you're dating the young, have patience, as it may take a few years to get both sex and companionship from the same guy. And make no mistake: if you want both, you deserve both. Do not settle for less.

Wednesday, September 27, 2006

Internet Anagram Server / I, Rearrangement Servant

Internet Anagram Server / I, Rearrangement Servant : anagram, anagrams, anagramme, anagrama, wordplay, word play, creator, solver, finder, generator, crossword, transmogrify, pangram, shuffle, fun

Totally entertaining, totally useless. Enter your name or any other group of words, and the generator spits out all possible anagrams. My favorites:













Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Saints 23; Falcons 3

My Saints kicked ass and didn't stop to take names last night.

I confess, I bawled all the way through the opening ceremonies. Bono was singing about my city! Irma Thomas sang the national anthem! The Edge! I totally should've been there.

Emma can wait...

because this arrived in my mailbox yesterday:

If you do not get the Oxford American, hie thee at once to your local independent bookseller and GET THIS ISSUE with its awesome FREE CD. Even better, go to the Oxford American website and subscribe. The CD sampler alone is worth the cost of admission.

Monday, September 25, 2006

what jezebella is....

Reading... actually, better make that "Re-reading"...

Watching: This may take a while, as it consists of lots of mumbling interviews between Dylan & clueless British reporters.

Craving but valiantly resisting the temptation to eat this stuff until I'm sick as a cheese-filled dog


The poet was in a car accident last week and is now (temporarily) without the use of his right arm. I am completely freaked out because based on the pictures I've seen, he's lucky to be alive. Lucky to even HAVE an arm. dumptruck! kablam! dead! is how it could've been and it's so easy to forget how quickly everything can change, and then when you're forcibly reminded of the fact, it's HARD to forget how quickly everything can change. We're all just a missed stairstep or a missed redlight or a nasty bacterium away from dead, disabled, or brain damaged, or if we're really lucky, merely - merely! - in excruciating pain from a crushed & burnt & bruised arm & shoulder.

Never forget we are all only temporarily able-bodied. Sooner or later something is gonna quit working.

Point: I'd make a terrible nurse. When someone is in pain and I can't fix it I grow faint & nauseous or I get wound up & start pacing & twittering, and then if I get snapped at, I snap back, also I need more than 2 hours of sleep in a row to be a nice person, so I can, you know, go do what needs doing, but I'm not so good at the warm & friendly bedside manner part of the job. Not that I ever considered being a nurse, but still, it's confirmation that medicine was definitely not a career path for me.

Point: the medical industry is not patient-friendly. The ER sent him home with grit in his tore-up arm. Nobody referred him to a burn specialist til almost a week after the accident. I had to make a seriously pain-in-the-ass nuisance of myself at the bone doctor to get the doctor into the room a mere FORTY-FIVE MINUTES after the time of the appointment. The bone doctor's nurse handed a man with a completely non-functioning right arm a giant stack of papers to fill out. He's right handed, naturally. And the papers asked the same questions over, and over, and over.

Point: somebody needs to get on with it and develop beam-me-up technology because it's a long way to Pensacola from here.

Monday, September 18, 2006

About Recycling for Charities: Wireless Cell Phone Recycling Fundraising Nonprofit

About Recycling for Charities: Wireless Cell Phone Recycling Fundraising Nonprofit

Got junk? You know you do: old cell phones, PDAs, whatever, that are sitting at the bottom of a drawer somewhere. Go to this website to find out how you can help a charity and clean out a drawer at the same time.

Saturday, September 16, 2006


notes on a trip to Starkville:

If you sit on the balcony at Mugshots bar, which is smack downtown,on a Thursday night, you will see a cop drive by approximately every 3 minutes. I hope no one needed a cop elsewhere.

State's library is pretty nice. State's football stadium is a freakin colossus. And I hear the football team mostly sucks, so why spend fifty bazillion dollars on an enormous stadium? Not that I care about college football.

I resisted the temptation to get the Best Biscuit in Mississippi at the Parade gas station on the way there, but it was touch-and-go for a while there.

As irritating as teaching can be, I really do miss being on a campus. It was nice to futz around, have coffee with some people, and poke around the library. Haven't done that in much too long.

Tuesday, September 12, 2006

best part of my job:

Buying art with someone else's money! Woot. Granted, I don't get to keep it, but still: shopping for really cool stuff that someone else pays for is a whole crapload of cool.

I'm just sayin'. Kind of makes the board meetings, navy blue suits, and all that worth it.

Monday, September 04, 2006

myths and photoshop

I was at the gym yesterday and they had a copy of "Fit Pregnancy" in the magazine pile. The cover, a "fit pregnant" woman who of course had gained no weight anywhere besides her belly, had a completely airbrushed belly button. It poked out but had clearly been photoshopped into oblivion, so I grabbed a pencil, circled the navel, and wrote "airbrushed" across the belly. It just seemed like one more thing to make pregnant women self-conscious about their changing bodies. Maybe I'll go back and write the URL for that "Shape of a Mother" website on the magazine, so women can see that their own bodies are NOT going to look like the airbrushed myth of "Fit Pregnancy" models.

Stingray kills 'Crocodile Hunter' Irwin - Yahoo! News

Stingray kills 'Crocodile Hunter' Irwin - Yahoo! News

Okay, so you know he was bound to die in a freak wildlife-related accident, but it still makes me sad. He was only 44 and he's got two little children.

Back when I had cable, I loved watching the Croc Hunter. The ex and I once went as Steve & Terri Irwin for Halloween, matching khaki outfits and all.

Saturday, September 02, 2006

more Mississippi Moments

At Walmart:

woman # 1: Are you going to see that Talladega Nights movie?

woman #2: No I am not! It's just a MOCKERY of NASCAR.

[this reported to me by the poet. I was there but in a state of near-catatonia caused by the wailing, piercing alarm going off in the camera department. I was informed that said alarm would probably continue for some time, as camera staff had recently departed for the night]

At the Shell Station food store:

"Did you see my new car? I'm riding in STYLE, it's a brand new Ford Expedition. I got in a wreck, did you read about it in the paper? I was in the paper.... I was in a wreck up in Stringer, and the paper made it sound like it was my fault, when THEY hit ME.... Didn't you see it in the paper?"


Unfortunately I cannot duplicate the sheer red-necked-ness of the hardcore white trash Piney Woods Mississippi accent in print. The poet thinks I should just carry around a voice-activated recorder at all times because in truth, I do witness gems of this sort on a regular basis.


And, last but not least, seen but not heard: A big dude and his mini-me friend, decked out in sunburns, hunting camo, and faux Oakley shades, shooting at deer on the deer-hunting game, the one with life-sized plastic rifles for shooting. Man, they were having some fun on a Friday night at the Walmart.