The New Girl

Tomorrow a new girl starts. I pity her, I really do. Not because this is an awful job (quite the contrary), but because I'm an awful teacher. Y'see, my life leads to two paths right about now, one involves graduate school in an academic field which will result in a teaching job at a university (what else do you do with those degrees?), and the other is climbing the ladder in retail. Perhaps the payoff is bigger if I went the grad school route, but I'm not a good teacher. I don't have patience, and I have a short fuse with stupid people. And I believe that one should only become a teacher if one has the passion and competence for it. Also, I don't want to be a teacher. I don't like it. And I like retail. I could do this infinitely, theoretically. Teaching--probably not.
But anyways, the other reason I feel sorry for her is that she will be bombarded with retail-speak. Our company is particularly notorious for misappropriating the English language for its own ends. She's not being trained, she's being "onboarded." She's not a part of our workforce, she's part of our "Talent." Not having enough people to work the floor is not our problem, but our "opportunity." (At least we didn't invent the word "Shopportunity." I swear I'll swallow a gun next time I hear that spoken aloud.) Not to mention the bajillion acronyms that get tossed around every day: ADS, TPLH, LBOS, QCXRPPP (okay, I made that last one up). Over time this becomes a new language, and we all speak it fluently, and I think we even grow to prefer some of the euphemisms, but...
I don't remember what it was like learning all of these terms, but it would probably have been worse if I learned them all on my first/second day. And I imagine since I won't be able to hold myself back (remember what I said about patience), I'm probably just going to cram the new girl full of all this crap and scare her off. All the better, I say. Because, really--I like my job, and I don't care to share it. Maybe she can go to grad school.

I'm Gonna Size You Up

So today I'm not wearing the right bra size. I like the color, however, especially under the see-through shirt I'm wearing, and I paid, like, $30 for it, so I'm wearing the damn bra anyways! Sometimes this bra likes to ride up (because it's the wrong size) and requires some adjusting every now and then; it starts doing this as I'm journeying to the Promised Land, and I begin adjusting my straps. As I do so, some yokel in the lane next to me starts wheeling his scrawny neck around to look at me in a very conspicuous manner. Grow. Up. It's not like I was popping my tits out of my shirt and fondling them. I mean, I don't mind being looked at, but I do mind being gawked at when I'm not trying to attract freak-show-style attention.
See, the problem I own the wrong size in the first place is because I believed I was a 34C for a while. This was a jump up from the 34B I had been up until I turned 21--when my breasts decided to grow a size up. Apparently, I've been wrong my entire life.
I work at Victoria's Secret, and I really like what I do. And my job entails being able to size breasts accurately--something I can do with moderate accuracy without even a tape measure. So, believe me when I say I now am absolutely positive I am a 32D--big boobies on a skinny girl, which makes for a difficult bra size to find.

How to measure oneself?
While standing up with a normal bra on (no minimizers, binders, corsets, padded bras, add-a-cup types, or sports bras--and don't go au naturale), take a measuring tape (the typical dressmaker's kind, nothing fancy) and wrap it around the back, underneath the armpits, across the top of the breasts. This measurement should give the band size. I know this seems against logic, since the band goes just underneath the breasts, and not across the top, but trust me. If you measure underneath the breasts, you have to add about 3 or 4 inches to get the band size (underneath my breasts I measure 28 inches, but underneath my pits I'm 31 inches). Underneath-the-breasts +3" is only a useful measurement if the armpit measuring is going to be off--e.g.: if you have a lot of fat (as can happen with some 42" band sizes or greater) or muscle (as in swimmers) underneath your armpits.
Anyways, now that you've got your band size, measure across the fullest part of the breasts--laying the tape more or less right over the nipples. The tape measure should be roughly level all the way--it's important it's not slanting up or down as it goes around your back. When measuring across the breasts, the tape measure should not press into the breasts at all. In fact, it's best to draw the tape out at the center of the breasts and give it a little space--you want this measurement to be loose. This measurement must come out either equal or greater than your band size--really it should be greater if you even bother wearing a bra. I'll explain how this measurement turns into a letter in a moment.
*A note: If you measure at a band size of 32, you should inhale and hold a deep breath while measuring across the nipples--small torsos notoriously come out wrong with cup size measurement (I measured a 32A!).
Take the band size and subtract it from the number you just got from across your nipples. The difference between these two numbers will give you your cup size:

• 0 = AA
  
• 1 = A
  
• 2 = B
  
• 3 = C
  
• 4 = D
  
• 5 = DD

And so on.

Now you try on a bra in your new size! I recommend going to Victoria's Secret to try on a bra since you can get your measurement double-checked by any competent associate, but if you're a DIY girl, you can go to a department store where some of the fancy-schmancy brands run a wide range of sizes (DKNY and Vera Wang come to mind).

Now, how to tell if you're wearing the right bra size?
Stand up. Put your arms straight down at your side. Ask yourself these questions, moving your arms as necessary to check:

• Does your underwire come underneath your arm? It should.
  
• Can you put two (and only two) fingers in the space between your bra and the start of your armpit? It does not matter what kind of bra you are wearing.
  
• Does your band go across the center of your back? Wearing it too high up your back is a sign your bandsize is too big--or your straps are too tight.
  
• Does the space between cups (usually triangle-shaped--called the "gore") fall flat against your body? If it doesn't naturally touch your skin at the top, your cup size might be too small.
  
• Is your band snug against your back without digging into your skin? You should not be able to pull it too far from your back if it is the right size and in the right place.

The vast majority of women do not know their bra size, and most of the ones I measure are wearing a bra at least 2 cups too small. Measure yourself and someone you love. It will make a difference to wear your right bra size. Don't panic if you're several cup sizes greater or smaller than you thought you were--it's about comfort, not a letter grade. Also, if you're quick with abstract thought, you may have noticed that the equation for achieving your bra size is based on a difference between two measurements--i.e.: a 36A has the same cup as a 34B, which is the same cup as a 32C, and so on. This also means that any cup size letter (B,C,D) is a meaningless generalization without a bandsize; my 32Ds are considerably smaller than a 38D. So you can't just "make-do" by going up a bandsize number and assume the cup will fit just the same.

Well, that's most of my knowledge regarding bra sizing. I'm willing to take questions, or--more happily--customers who would like the full-on Zan-expertise (or "Zanpertise"). This is never an easy thing, but, dammit!, it's important to keep the girls happy!

An armed robbery and sexual assault of my time.

Good lord, I need to get away from my house and actually do some work. Isn't it a bit true it's far easier to work when you're in Starbucks or a library rather than at home with so many far more entertaining things surrounding you? I have an upcoming doozy of a semester, and I'm still facing an existential crisis regarding grad school (English or French PhD? And whatever happened to my Italian?). I think I'm going to eat something and get my ass somewhere it can be productive rather than procrastinatory.

Disabled = sexabled?

I must admit how terrible a person I can be. Perhaps it's my introverted nature, or maybe I'm really just an awful jerk (survey says. . . both). And because of today's college atmosphere, I have to admit to myself and the people who grade me that I'm really lousy in most environments which involve volunteer work. Old people can't hear me (I speak in a frequency which people are likely to go deaf in, and I also alternate the volume and pitch of my voice in a pattern inconsistent with normal speech), I am bad with kids (I once started a fight between two kids while doing afterschool tutoring), and I was raised by Republicans and naturally have an issue with the homeless. But there's one disability that I can somehow work with: disabled people. My only issue is that I'm afraid I'll offend them, but I think everyone feels that way unless they've been around them for a long time.

So I guess this isn't really a great preface, but I've just read an enlightening article I got off the current Savage Love Column about sex surrogates--which are like the über volunteers of disabled people. Essentially, these are trained people who enabled disabled people to love their bodies, and to learn how to love others as well (and I do mean that naughty, fun kinda love). While the writer does express his eventual cynicism--his surrogate was only so helpful when all she eventually gave him was false hopes. But I think he does suggest something better--hospitals which rehabilitate the disabled in sexual matters as well as others. I mean, what would be the first question on my mind if I suddenly became disabled: "Am I still going to be able to have sex?"
"Will anyone want to have sex with me?"
"Will I be left to disabled fetishists and prostitutes for sexual needs?"
"Am I even going to be able to get myself off?"

Why the fuck aren't rehabilitation hospitals doing this? I think disabled people have enough trouble. Sure, teach them to cook for themselves and be independent, but show them how to fuck, how to date, how to love, and how to love themselves. It's a new world in that of disability, and I don't think we should just leave it to their great personality for them to find someone willing to take on all of the responsibilities which come with loving a disabled person. I think if I could get past the disabled nature of someone, I would certainly go on a date, and, if all went well, hop in the sack--or chair--I'm flexible. But it would be difficult to actually go that distance with someone if they were so wound up about hating their body or being afraid to hop in the sack--or chair--I'd be more turned off than a cold piece of fried cod. C'mon, think about how much easier it would be (relatively) for disabled people to hook up if they could summon the confidence to seal the deal/push the envelope/fuck someone on a date. Starting the disabled off on the right foot (excuse the terribly insensitive pun--refer to the first sentence for an explanation) with self confidence and a healthy attitude about their sexuality could just do wonders for them on the dating scene.

How can our medical system acknowledge the importance of sexuality to mental and physical health, and then turn it away in actual practice at the same time? Get a grip, health system. No, lower. Little lower. There you go.

Now deal with it.

Your Right to Free Kink

I'm all for Gay rights. I have gay, queer, bi, trans, etc. friends, and they're absolutely delightful human beings. And I think that no one should deny someone a job based solely on their sexual orientation or their bedroom preferences (or for race, sex, religion, or any of those other ugly discriminations). But with that being said, I don't think the queer community (or any community, for that matter) should use their "minority" status as a crutch or a scapegoat.

Take this kinky, pagan fellow. Kudos to him for being counter-culture and open about his sexuality. And while his civil suit is really bordering on TMI, I wonder why it's relevant. Did he walk into the chauffeur-permit-granting institution in a black leather mask with a whip in hand? Because I could understand why someone would not want to grant even a fishing permit to someone dressed like that in public. I'm all for BDSM, but y'all have to admit it's a bit creepy when you start wearing the full costume in broad daylight. And if he wasn't dressed to fuck, then why would the discriminating officer even know to deny him a permit based on his BDSM status? I can really only draw two conclusions: either this guy wears his kinks on his sleeve (which is really not a good quality to have for a chauffeur), or he's just bringing up the issue because he wants to make a lot of legal noise about something that didn't even factor into the decision.

No, I don't think we should discriminate over someone's kinks, but I also don't think your personal sexual preferences should be brought up over a chauffeur-permit application. So, I'm going to suppose that this whole denial has some other reason other than his BDSM-loving ass, and the true source of his permit denial probably resonates with the legitimacy of some other reason: like having a felony on his record (like kidnapping?), or having too many traffic tickets, or just not having all the proper information.

This kind of attitude is just reprehensible to me: to not just ignore one's own shortcomings in life, but also to demand that the rest of society ignore them for fear of upsetting one's minority status. Your minority status is not your crutch. And if you want to stop being considered a minority, maybe you should stop insisting on special treatment over it. I mean, when you start getting down into minority status over sexual kinks, almost everyone is a minority. Also, to compare something like one's own bedroom preference to the light of the oppression that other minorities have suffered (consider the slavery of race, the genocides of religion, the lynchings of sexuality, the silencing of gender) is utterly ridiculous. No dominatrix has suffered the way that blacks did in early colonial America (or the Native Americans, for that matter). No foot fetishist was forced into concentration camps. No latex-lover was dragged from the back of a truck for miles and then hung dead on a makeshift cross for his family and friends to find.

This BDSM-loving pagan man's false cry of prejudice is an insult to the real minorities that have suffered. It seems unlikely that any discrimination could have occurred, since one's Pagan or BDSM status are unlikely to come up on a chauffeur-permit application. I smell the foul scent of special rights for stupid reasons, and I'm sickened by it.

A Sex Letter

Dear Sexists,
This isn't a letter about sex--well, yes it is, but not like you're thinking. This is about my sex, not the one I give, but the one I was born with. The female sex. I'm tits and cunt and a whole lotta smarts, too. Does that scare you? Or do you just think it's unfair for me to have tits, cunt, and brains all in one package? If you want to talk about what's unfair, we can go on at length about dehumanizing attitudes, because you're giving me a great example.
I don't pretend to understand your kind; I must always forget to multiply fear into the equation of boobs + brain = sexist prick. (Us girls and our math, what can I say?) But whatever tiny complex is making your tighties knot whenever I open my mouth to argue, you seem to respond in ten-fold anger, condescension, or both.
Thanks to pricks like you I understood the root word of patronize. Thanks to pricks like you I learned that sexism is still alive and well. And it is because of you that feminism cannot die--nay, will not die--as long as you decide that you need to restrict my mouth and my confidence until I am beaten down into willful submission so you can carry on your conversation with the boys.
You need to recognize you're sexist. You need to recognize that you don't respect women when you can only argue condescendingly with us. And you need to recognize that women will avoid you and you will wake up one day next to a wife who cannot really love you because you cannot really respect her. And one day you will look back and think on all the women you have burned and raged at because they dared to argue, dared to object, dared to question, and realize that your attempts to drag them back down to the kitchen were done in vain. For you cannot make us submit. The times you thought you had beaten us down were merely times we laid low to strike back. We never submitted. And we're not going to now. Because we're smarter and swifter and stronger than you, and no wimpy sexist is going to make us stop believing that.
Tomorrow night is Take Back the Night. And we're taking it back, you pricks.

Love,
Smart Women Everywhere

True Love Waits

So, grâce à Charlottesville's Festival of the Book and Planned Parenthood, I caught wind of a lecture by writer Hanne Blank on her newest book, Virgin: The Untouched History. And while Hanne was absolutely fabulous (and downright hysterically funny at times), she touched on something that's been touching me for a bit. Anyone who's been reading this knows that I'm not a friend of abstinence, and I think it should be stated that I'm also not a fan of the Bush administration. And for those of you who don't know, Bush has recently begun implementing programs that stress complete abstinence until marriage, even far into adulthood. I could not think of anything more egregious to do to your fellow countrymen/women. If you don't have sex before age 30, it's quite likely you won't be doing it at all, or at least not very long. Your sex organs will literally atrophy; women will be unable to be penetrated without pain, or may not be able to achieve orgasm, and men may suffer from premature ejaculation or become impotent far sooner than their promiscuous counterparts. Now, if you're post-thirty and still not doing the humpty-hump, I'm not saying you must go have sex now... just be warned that you're risking your ability to have sex at all.

Even my recently non-virgin friend was cutting it close: he got married at age 25. What's frightening is that he found somebody without knowing what he was looking for. I mean, look at it this way: would you buy a car without knowing how to drive one? Are you going to just hop in the seat, fiddle with the radio, roll the windows up and down, watch the wipers move back and forth, and say, "Yep! I think I'll like how this car drives! I'm sure whatever kind of odd quirks this car has, I'll be ready for, and I'm sure they'll be perfectly suited to my own driving preferences! I cannot imagine any reason why this car would not drive the way I'd want it to the rest of my life!"
Now, I did this whenever looking at cars with my mom before I ever drove one. It was easy to imagine that there was no real difference between cars except superficial ones, and I could pick them out easily. But once you get behind the wheel and start driving, you become aware that not all cars are the same, and the more cars you drive, the more aware you become. I don't drive stick, and I wouldn't even know how to handle one. I also don't like the steering wheel size of the Ford Focus. In fact, I didn't like much at all about driving a Ford Focus. However, I have a friend who likes his quite a bit. And I love my Honda, even though I know it is not as quiet nor does it handle as nicely as my Mom's Infiniti. How cars drive is a complex and ambiguous matter of preference, and is an infinitesimally insignificant matter compared to choosing a partner for the rest of your life. So, if you wouldn't be that ridiculous to assume any old car will be good for the rest of your life, why would you assume that any old sex partner would be?

The fact is, you are taking marriage too lightly if you think sex will not be important--or that you will be magically compatible in bed. There are a lot of body types and even more sexual fetishes, and any "virgin-until-married" type is being ridiculous in thinking that fate will match them up with the right one. Why do some of these pre-abstinent marriages work? I don't know. Maybe they got lucky and both had compatible kinks (ha!), or maybe they managed to work through their incompatibilities with compromise and understanding because they had a strong foundation for the marriage to work off of. Or, maybe they just give up on sex once they discover their incompatible desires. Or, even worse, they repress themselves or their partner into compatibility by stifling desires through a marriage of rigidity and resentment.

Also, am I the only one who sees that the abstinent types are also in a big hurry to get married? I mean, when every relationship is begun with the prospect of marriage twinkling in your eye, aren't you just asking for a superficial love based on your mutual desire to finally have sex without the guilt? I mean, sexual desire can make you do some crazy shit in the name of "love;" how can you be sure your lovey feelings for each other aren't just horniness in disguise? And once that horniness is quenched, will there still be love left in your starry eyes?

Certainly, marriage isn't all about sex, but sex does consume a good amount of it. There are a lot of things that you can knock out of a marriage (sleeping in the same bed, having children, eating dinner together, sharing hobbies) and still call it a perfectly fine marriage (if not even remarkably good for its quirks). But if you knock out sex, second only to communication and trust in a marriage, you have nothing. Fact: if your partner is incurably unable to have sex for more than five years, you are allowed to legally annul your marriage. That's "annul," not "divorce." As in, it wasn't really a marriage in the eyes of the State. Which is not to say all there is to a marriage, nor to say that a chaste marriage isn't a real one, but it really does drive home the point that the government at least views your marriage as nothing more than state-sanctioned sex. (Perhaps why the government is so squeamish on gay marriage: all the politicians won't be able to get their illicit airport bathroom kicks if the government starts sanctioning it.)

Is it just me, or does it seem more responsible to have sex in a safe and healthy manner, with people you trust, with people whose sexual histories you have a knowledge of, with people who strip naked to reveal a recent STD test taped to their stomachs, with people who will be willing to explore yours and their sexuality within the boundaries of safety, so that you can find the right person you'll want to bonk everyday, even when you both have morning breath and haven't shaved or showered in three days, even when you both have previously annoyed the piss out of each other just by breathing wrong, just so that you can be sure that your marriage will stand on such firm ground that it won't fail even if it was juggling Mack trucks in a Richter-scale shattering earthquake? Why is being a virgin so important? Is that all your sexuality is worth to your future partner?

She cometh alone

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For Argument's Sake!

You know what, mankind? I'm from New York (although this attitude can be found throughout New England), and when I say something offensive, you'll know it. It'll be accompanied by a prominent middle figure, and ending in such delightful phrases as, "Fuck face," "shit hole," or (my mother's favorite) "cocksucking motherfucker asswhore." So, if you are offended by something I've said, and it does not follow the above guidelines, I have not meant to offend you, and am really hoping that any offense you might take will be mediated through the ancient art of argument. So, I say something like, "I think your religion is ridiculous because of blah-blah-blah." If you don't agree, I would love (and I do mean love) for you to tell me so. You can be all like, "Look, fuckface, it seems pretty sensible to me because blah-blah-blah is taken out of context, or [insert logical, contradictory statement to my previous assumption here]." I don't like offending people, but what I like even less is the distinct impression that I've offended someone who is too chicken to call me out when I'm practically asking them to prove me wrong. Where I'm from, opinions can get served up faster than a civil suit to McDonald's, and we foster nice healthy debates. I can get into quite heated debates with my own husband, and immediately afterwards (if not during) have hot, kinky sex for an hour. Debate is normal! I want someone to argue with me. Otherwise how will I ever know that my opinions (or your opinions) are wrong?

So please: argue with me. I can't hold this self esteem up on my own, peoplez.

Slap that puss!

I don't know if you're aware--maybe you are not the porn-watching kind (Why? It's delightful!)--but in porn, there's something that I think looks very odd. Okay, so the girl's rubbing her clit like mad, and then she occasionally just gives it a quick slap or two. Now, being a possessor of the almighty vagina, I understand that this might look a little weird, but the occasional tap on the clit feels really good. But since when has reality gotten in the way of a pornographer's vision? It looks ridiculous! I'd show you a clip, but I think I would violate a large number of laws regarding copyright and pornography (disseminating it to minors at the very least), but I imagine anyone with a sans-safety Google or an XTube bookmark could find what I'm talking about.
All I can think while goggling this kind of porn is that this girl is getting very frustrated at her vagina not working, and like any fickle mechanism, has decided to give it a quick few whacks in hopes that it will spring whirring into a frenzy of orgasmic convulsions--much like how I imagine my MacBook would work in a perfect world.

A Close Encounter of the Celibate Kind.

A friend of mine recently got married. And normally I would merely clap him on the back and welcome him into the world of post-nuptial blissful boredom. However, a funny thought occurred to me not long after his wedding day: he's just had sex! Yes, my friend and his fiancée were holding it in until their wedding night, which really hit home at how awkward a situation that must be. I cannot fathom waiting until my wedding night to see my beloved in the all-together, only to lay down and go about the business of determining what part goes in exactly which of many holes.
Now, if my memories are any indication, I believe losing your virginity is an awkward and needlessly complicated process. Honestly, if it didn't improve significantly after the first few attempts, I think humans would have long since been extinct. But to save it for your wedding night? Talk about pressure! So many new things are happening all at once, do you really need orgasms and sex and nakedness to top it all off? And there's this thought prevailing that if you don't succeed, your marriage isn't officially consummated! Eek! and if you really can't get around to it, it's grounds for annulment! Double Eek! ...All my boyfriend and I had to worry about was getting the damn thing done and over with before his parents knocked on the door.
What possessed my friend to wait until now is beyond me. He claims religious fervor, I say he was just too scared and put it off until the last minute. And I thought I was a bad procrastinator.

A letter to the exclusionary Christians.

Dear Christians who want everything they do to be marked with a Christian-friendly approval:

America is not a fan of you. In fact, America doesn't like the following types: immigrants who refuse to speak English but still demand that somebody understand them, people who are not willing to take the blame for their own lack of common sense (coffee=hot!), people who want to make us feel guilty for simple pleasures (e.g.: meat-eating), and people who insist that they only affiliate with people who are exactly like them. This is a nation founded on conflict and intellectual debate, and to effectively remove yourselves from the debate by not associating with anyone but other Christians is (in my opinion) unAmerican.

I completely understand the desire for Christian churches (duh), Christian schools, Christian holidays, Christian jewelry, Christian music, Christian literature, Christian apparel, and Christian get-togethers (e.g.: picnics and dances). I respect that Christians are proud of whom they are, want to be in an atmosphere where they may practice their beliefs without having to explain them, and just like hanging out with other Christians. But I am not so tolerant of Christian literary magazines, Christian cookbooks, Christian universities, Christian hospitals, Christian bars, Christian plumbers, Christian how-to-knit guides, Christian banks, Christian summer camps (those which have nothing to do with Christianity except being run by Christians), and Christian restaurants. Now you guys are just being silly. It would not hurt for you to step into the world of mainstream America and notice that the rest of us, the sinful and the unsaved, would be happy to have a polite conversation with you over coffee. Perhaps if you came down from your ivory towers and realized that the rest of the world has some really neat stuff in it (you'd be amazed where the arts have come since they stopped being endorsed by the Church!), then maybe you'd realize that the only thing good about your version of certain things is that it's "morally good."

Seriously guys, your music hasn't been good since Bach.

Oh, and lay off that apocalypse shit for a year or two. That shit's been old since 1001 A.D.

Love,
Zan

P.S.: Rant brought to you by the Christian Literary Magazine, Wide Awake, at UVa

Cooking with Sylvia Plath!

I was busy being engrossed in what is a several month-long relationship involving me, Sex and the City on DVD, and NetFlix, when I came upon this realization: Don't date writers. Now perhaps it's not clear how I came about this, so I'll explain. Carrie, the main character of Sex and the City is a writer herself. But more importantly, at some point in the show (specifically the Fifth Season, Disc 2) she dates a writer. And I cannot tell you how much that spells doom. And some of you may know that I am actually a writer. And I'm actually married. But please don't let my husband in on it.
Writers are never social people. In fact, out of two personality types, A and B, they fall under Personality Type X. As in eX-boyfriend/girlfriend material. As in eXtremely unsociable. As in, eXcuse me while I ignore you to bask in the warm glow of my loneliness/depression/alcoholism/Faulkner obsession/hopelessly doomed love affair since that relationship will at least fuel my desire to write.
I've often found outrage at the idea that writing (perhaps more than any other art) gets sequestered into a specific "non-artistic" category. Perhaps writers should get together and boost the image of writing. They could form unions, or even e-mail groups or--wait, no, I'm sorry. They have chatrooms and unions and get-togethers. But no one ever shows up to the meetings. They're all busy trying to read Faulkner underwater and backwards to try and catch the multiple narratives.
Seriously: name me one celebrated author (dead or alive) who would make a terrific date. Plath? Suicidal after a disastrous marriage. Twain? Plagued by familial and finanical ruin. Hemingway? Alcoholism. Faulkner? Alcoholism. Capote? Alcoholism. Poe? Alcoholism (and married his cousin). Fitzgerald? Alcoholism. Melville? Alcoholism. Hawthorne? Puritanism.

But if you're seriously thinking of dating a writer, try picking one up at an AA meeting. I imagine that's the only time we'd come out of the woodwork. Either that, or join an <3Faulkner Yahoo! group.

Smackdown!

I've officially kicked butt in a very financial way. I got University Housing to defer my rent until September, and I got OCC to allow my transcript to be released despite not having paid off my account (this took some lengthy phone calls to the CFO). I'm still going to file a complaint with the D.A. because I still don't think a college has the right to charge me post facto, even if it is to correct a mistake.

In other smackdowns, some 72-year-old man taught a pickpocket a lesson about crime--the broken jaw way.

This ain't no Indiana Jones crap.

I'm off on an adventure! To where? To the magical land of a respectable 4-year institution where Range Rovers and frat parties abound!
I am now able to safely say I'm relocating to Charlottesville, VA to attend the University of Virginia; where I will feel pretentious to say "Mr. Jefferson's School" for the first seven times, and constantly correct myself when I say "campus." I'm hoping I won't run into too many snobby jerks, but if UVa is replete with people like this guy, I am going to fit right in (minus the legal jargon). I have high hopes my social encounters will not induce a desire to draw blood since I'll be a Comparative Literature major, and liberal arts schools tend to attract more laidback, not annoying people than the (Oh say...) business or engineering schools.

I'm feeling good because I've got cheap housing and a strong sense of Northerner superiority.

Fat Panda Sex

According to an AP report there's a panda in a Bangkok Zoo who's too fat to have sex. His mate has no attraction to him now that he weighs nearly 100 pounds more than she. This is just another long-running obstacle in the zoo's attempt to mate the two. They've so far staged a mock wedding, intend on temporarily separating the two (Distance makes the panda cock grow harder?), and have even considered bringing in Panda Porn (nature videos of mating pandas). So Chuang Chuang is overweight and unattractive to his mate, Lin Hui. Now they need a fancy wedding and some porn to make things work. They're not pandas; they're fucking human.

I am NOT Jane Fonda.

Oh my, oh my. Apparently the feminists have succeeded, because according to this dimwit (a well-respected conservative editor, no less) we are responsible for everything that is happening now in society (specifically: the bad stuff). God damn, when did women become so powerful? Who knew we could influence this much? I guess Steinem and Fonda are out of a job now.

Seriously though. As one of the book's reviewers says: "One of the trends I've noticed recently is that a lot of younger women profess to be 'anti-feminist,' something that never fails to send shivers down my spine." What in hell is going on here? We've decided that we can toss away the ladder because it brought us somewhere tolerable? Women should not so quickly forget that it is the feminists that brought them to the place where they can vote, leave an abusive relationship, use birth control, divorce, get a career, lead a company, and wear pants. I don't see Ms. O'Beirne sending Betty Friedan a thank-you note for fighting for her right to get published in this country.

Not to mention the fact that she's attacking only a few figures in the current feminist movement. I really wouldn't mind if this was a critique on what certain women have said in the name of feminism. Go right ahead. Personally, I think Jane Fonda needs to be slapped around a bit. But it's not that. It's an attack on the movement because of individuals related to it. I really don't think George Bush would appreciate me attacking him for whatever comes from Ann Coulter's mouth just because they're both conservatives. And I don't think O'Beirne would appreciate being the receiving end of my retort on what Dan Quayle said just because they're both idiots. The Feminist movement is very diverse, and has been since the '80s. But it's clear when Jane Fonda wants to create a feminizing school for boys, she's on the fringe. There are extremists; and there are moderates. And if you want to attack a movement, you need to attack the moderates, not the fucking extremists.

Holla, Rape Haters!

I've been worming my way through a surprisingly good read called The Girlfriend Test by Wendy Walsh. And while I found the title to make my feminism chuckle, it was totally worth the 35 cents at one of Waldenbooks' Crazy Sales. She finds some interesting stuff about gender relations, and it would probably be terribly useful if I was in the market for boyfriends. If you're single and confused, go buy it.

Anyways, in Chapter 8, she relays some rather valuable information to us ladies (and men...?): How to avoid Date-Rape. Walsh mentions a few studies (although doesn't cite them, grr!) in which they found--surprise, surprise--Date Rapists aren't always clear on the message of "Get-the-fuck-away-from-me" that their victims are broadcasting. She mentions a few problems (i.e.: Using "no" as foreplay), but there are some tricky ones that mask as chivalry. The Five Factors that will make a rapist think he is owed sex by his date are as follows:

1. He initiated the date
   
2. He picks the date up and drops her off
   
3. He picks up the check
   
4. His date hangs around in his parked car (assumably as he's dropping her off)
   
5. She goes to his apartment with him

The first one is simply unavoidable. But the others... well, ladies... welcome to the Twenty-First Century. Chivalry without sexpectation is dead.

Now, this isn't by any means to say that ALL men are potential rapists. Not by a long shot. The catch is that you never know when a man is one. Date Rape is a tricky crime, because a lot of the men who commit it aren't even aware they've done it. They don't set out to rape a girl. They just think that what they've done is "payment" for sex. (Seriously, think of prostitution's historical success: men are easily capable of the equation $$=sex.) But I think this is revelatory information for girls. I've long thought it rather polite for a date to pay for me and to pick me up. I had always considered that a man who asks me out is paying for my company--not my cooch. I mean, isn't that enough? (Apparently not for some men.) I mean, I's the same thing if I asked a guy out--now I'm paying for his company. That's just how I've always thought it should work. I'm sure a lot of guys would feel rather awkward about accepting dates if they knew they were expected to perform cunnnilingus when the woman paid.

It's irritating to think that women have to pony up for their half of the check if they don't feel like being pressured into the nookie. However, it's a reality we have to face if we want to prevent date rape. I'd like this to be a world were girls can go into a guy's apartment and not be raped, or to walk down lonely alleyways at 2 a.m., or pass out at a rave and not get raped--but it's the fact of the matter that there are situations which put us in danger. Prevention is the important end of elimintating rape. Once it's happened, there's no amount of punishment that will undo the crime and its repercussions. I'll never be the one to say that the victim is at blame, or that "she asked for it." However, I will say that we need to wisen up, and stop putting ourselves in a position for rape. Don't go walking down alleyways at 2 a.m. unless you've got a switchblade soaked in lemon juice, don't binge on any drug unless you're in the company of trustworthy and sober friends, and don't ever let your date think you owe him something.

Femicrite!

Another brilliant (?) find on the internet: This dickhead. Apparently men are being systematically oppressed by the evil feminists who rose up and decided to bring the perfect male down from his elevated an well-deserved image.

Now, I'm all for considering the idea that the white male in America often does have a hard time. And I think, in a lot of ways, he does. However, does man need a bunch of women to stand up and defend him? Well, I'd hope men would learn, like women did, to push back when they got pushed around too much. And seriously, let's consider that given the mechanisms that do work against man (child custody rulings and affirmative action come to mind) he still manages to somehow come out on top in this world. Despite this consideration, there was (apparently) an outcry from the masses of oppressed male for some chick to stand on her internet podium and attack feminism. Shouldn't she get her ass in the kitchen and make them all sandwiches rather than voicing her inferior opinion on the internet? Seriously ladies: if you don't like feminism, stay in the kitchen.


What her real problem is (as with most deceptive morons) is that she can easily quote facts, without considering the most probable causes.

3. INCOME: Men constitute 60% of workplace hours, work longer hours, work harder, and are more qualified, rarely file sexual discrimination or harassment lawsuits or take pregnancy leave, yet earn only 42% more than women --Why men make up the majority of the working world is obvious, and even coincides with her apparent beliefs (men work, women stay home). Men rarely file sexual harassment claims because they rarely get sexually harassed. The pregnancy leave reason is obvious, and the statement that they are more qualified or hard-working is something I doubt was actually measured statistically--it's a subjective statement and does not belong. As for earning "only42% more"? I'd like to know how she got that. Especially since she cites this "Dept. Labor", but the Department of Labor I found says that women earn 81% of what men make. Hmm...

4. SUICIDE: Men's suicide rate is 4.6 times higher than women's --Apparently this leads to the conclusion that we are oppressing men? The NIMH says that the elderly are more likely to commit suicide too. I definitely recall Gloria Steinem saying how we must undermine the elderly... And here's a nugget: white men (aha!) over the age of 85 have the highest rate of suicide. They must be doing it because they're too old to remember the days when women were only secretaries and teachers!

5. LIFE EXPECTANCY: Men's life expectancy is seven (7) years shorter than women's -- [. . .] yet receive only 35% of government expenditures for health care and medical costs. --There's a good reason for both these things: men don't go to doctors unless a limb falls off. It's not Betty Friedan's fault that men won't get an annual checkup.

7. FEDERAL TAXES: Even though men pay 115% of federal income taxes women constitute 11% more of the voters. --This statistic makes no fucking sense. And still, whose fault is it if men aren't getting out to vote as much as women? (She goes on to say, "Because there are 11% more female than male voters, males have little to no influence on how the male tax dollar is spent," which apparently implies that women vote in blocs in order to muscle out the male vote with our tiny advantage--which is actually 3.1% according to site.

9. WAR: Men, not women, fight and die in battle [Dept. Defense -- Vietnam Casualties 47,369 men vs 74 women]. . . --Ah, which leads us to an important problem that I believe feminists are fighting to change... women on the front lines. Interestingly enough, she cites Vietnam casualties, a war that had so few women involved that there was no official count, although we can rely on an estimate of less than 10,000 (compared to the ~2.6 million troops who fought in Vietnam).

11. MURDER: Men are murdered at a rate almost 5 times that of women-- Which is funny, because men are 9 times more likely to commit murder than women, according to this report.

12. JURY BIAS: Women are acquitted of spousal murder at a rate 9 times that of men [Bureau Justice Statistics -- 1.4% of men vs 12.9% of women]-- However, juries are often well-mixed, and both women and men are apparently guilty of this "jury bias." We must remember that juries are the people, so a "jury bias" is a really dumb idea.

13. COURT BIAS: Men are sentenced 2.8 times longer than women for spousal murder [Bureau Justice Statistics -- men at 17 years vs women at 6 years]-- Apparently the requirements for Murder One (often receiving a minimum of 15 years) is biased against men too.

16. SECONDARY EDUCATION: Even though zero percent of American 12th grade girls were able to correctly answer basic math and physics questions, less than one quarter of America's secondary and elementary school teachers are men.-- Note: there's no citation of this. I find the former statistic extremely unlikely (or poorly conducted). The latter statistic is probably due to the fact that most men don't want jobs teaching secondary or elementary school. Of the 15 students in my college "Math for Elementary Teachers" class, there were 2 guys--one who was actually seriously considering being an elementary teacher.

17. HIGHER EDUCATION: [. . . .]-- I'm going to skip over a lot of this crap by saying Hampden-Sydney, if 44.5% in 1993 is a decline from 38.2% in 1990 I'd like to see that research, as of 2004 USAToday reports that 43% of college campuses are men, more high school graduates are girls, and if 43% make up the enrollment but 45.8% make up degree recipients then we can see that men are gaining an advantage as women drop out. (I'm not going to even touch an uncited statistic that has a figure of 0%.)

19. DOMESTIC VIOLENCE: Even though study after study shows that women are the majority of the initiators of domestic violence, and 58% of the above mentioned physical altercations are initiated by the female [. . . .]-- so many studies and not a single one cited. How convenient. And yet, also lacking is a definition of what "initiating" domestic violence is. A tossed china plate? An insult? Not enough mayonnaise on a sandwich? So now we have a woman accussing her own sex of firing up men's violent tempers on purpose? How anti-woman is that? "She's just trying to get her husband to beat her because she knows the law will protect her!" I'm sure that's what all victims of domestic abuse think.

21. FAMILY BREAKDOWN: The US Surgeon General notes that divorce is more harmful to a man's health than smoking tobacco, yet as much as $1.3 Trillion of federal expenditures accomplish little else than undermine family stability.-- I'm not sure what this is claiming. Okay, so divorce is very harmful for men (assumably not the best thing to happen to women either). So let me get this straight: the government is trying to make families less stable by spending $1.3 trillion? Now, I went to this website but the chart didn't have a spot for "undermining family stability." However, we're spending more on destabilizing American families than the Health and Human Services budget (~$600 billion).

22. WOMEN PILOTS: Even though women pilots have an accident rate four times
that of men pilots, federal laws require that airlines risk the safety of passengers and hire women pilots anyway.-- I've found no evidence to suggest any of this.

23. WOMEN DRIVERS: Even though the crash rate of women drivers is twice that of men drivers, and even though drinking alcohol increases the crash rate of men by only 5%, the majority of those imprisoned under DUI laws are men, and women are almost never imprisoned for their much higher number of non-alcohol-related crashes.-- the mangling of facts is extraordinary! Women crash more cars, more men get imprisoned for DUI, therefore, why aren't women getting imprisoned for crashing cars? It should be noted that the majority of people don't get imprisoned for car crashes, and also women have less severe car crashes. Men are more likely to do the really big fuckups (like get drunk and crash their car), whereas women often just run over a mailbox. (Also, this website says that drivers with BAC levels between 0.05 and 0.09 percent (below the average legal limit), are 11.1 times more likely to have a fatal one-car crash than non-drinkers. (Don't even look at what it becomes after you exceed legal limits.) But apparently drinking alcohol only increases the crash rate of men by 5%. (For the incompetent females who can't do the math: 5% ≠ 11.1 times more)

24. INCARCERATION: Even though feminists brag that 1.4 million American brides commit adultery, and even though women file more than 90,000 false allegations of rape, every year, only 99,000 of the 1.8 million Americans behind bars are women.-- whose bragging? And, once again, lovely juxtaposition of facts: Lots of women commit adultery and file false rape claims, but not enough women are behind bars? Adultery is not a crime. False rape allegations aren't either, although I will admit that they are a sign of how far feminists have to go. When we have whiny college girls falsely accusing poor boys of rape all over the place, we're clearly seeing a sign of weak women trying to abuse the system to get back at boyfriends. This is a case for feminism, because it will result in stronger women who won't do shit like this. However, the false allegations are no argument for imprisoning women, nor should they be understood as a reason to ignore rape victims. Rape is a very delicate situation, and it is severely underreported as well as overreported.


All in all, I think this woman is a case against feminism. I mean, if empowering women means that this dumb bunny can run her mouth off about how feminists are driving men to suicide with adultery, bad piloting, and divorce, then maybe we should just march on Washington and tell them to take suffrage back. Heh, I just kid. But hey, she's a sister and maybe all she really needs is a good reason to love her clit. Women like this are just signals about how little progress women have made. We can't even convince all the American women that they're not inferior, how can we say we've won?

The Virgin Hunts

In my typical internet amblings, I came across this exciting blog on the Jane Magazine website (no, I don't read Jane; I was actually on the Bitch magazine website which linked to this). This is a blog, dubbed: "The Virgin Chronicles" which follows the quest of a sexy 30-year-old virgin to find Mr. Right-for-the-Taking. She apparently had grown sick of her relatives trying to find her a first at the Christmas Dinner table, and had enlisted Jane Magazine to =ahem= broadcast her cause. Now possible Deflowerers have been lining up 'round the block, and this girl still hasn't managed to go around it once. She was aiming at losing the big V for her 30th birthday on November 7, but alas, she's still in the giggly flirting period with every prospect. I'm sorry, she doesn't need cock. She needs a lesson in easyness. She even recently posted about going back to some Doctor's house and drinking chardonnay. But apparently he got as far as first base. Now, I'm not one to judge what a girl considers high status, but an attractive doctor with (as she claims) good decorating skills, a nice house, and good taste in wine is enough for me to spread. But no, she likes taking things slow. As if she hasn't taken things slow enough.

Mind you, I'm not saying, "give it up like a good woman should." I'm saying, 30 is old enough. If you want to lose it, lose it. Enough with this coquettery. Your first time isn't your wedding day (well... okay, I guess for some people it is), so stop being so damn picky. If you're so damn frustrated that you need the help of a magazine to find a decent guy, take the first one that looks good and go at it. You don't have to marry him. You just have to get naked and lie still.

It's no wonder this girl hasn't gotten around to the naked and nasty, she's building it up like she thinks there will be doves, a holy choir, and a laser light show. Face it: your first time is often, at best, your worst. Especially for a woman. It hurts, and it can get very awkward. Just get it done and over with, like so many other frustrated women have done before. And if you're hemming and hawwing rather than ripping your first date's shirt off and screaming, "30 years is too long!! ME WANT SEX!!" over escargot and pinot noir, then maybe sex isn't your thing. I mean, it doesn't even seem like this girl has done any variation of the nasty. If she can only manage some kissing with Mr. Sexy Doctor, I don't think sex is her thing--even with a light show.

She did go to an all-girls high school, all-girls college, and now lives in a girls-only apartment building... Maybe she should take all the obvious signs and think about why Mr. Sexy Doctor wasn't enough to merit at least a little groping action...

So, as a final note to all the virgins out there: sex is not a big deal. When you decide you want it: go for it. It's easy. There are plenty of able and willing partners out there. Just don't insist on dating every potential person in the world before you get around to it. Attractive and able-bodied is good enough for a first.