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listen lady the point of sexy underwear is to take it off, you’re not gonna keep it on for very long so shave your cunt and shut up

Thanks for your articulate comments. Next time, please leave a name. Even a fake one is better than insulting me under the veil of total anonymity.

On the other hand, I sort of relish these weird little insults. There’s nothing as fun as provoking morons. However, as the year draws to a close, I’d like to thank all the awesome people who have actually read and comprehended my ideas, even if you don’t always agree. Good debate is important to me, and there are at least a few instances in which people who left thoughtful comments (off the top of my head: Logan, Jane, Queen of Spain) in disagreement caused me to reconsider my position on some of the issues. The positive feedback I have received has been inspiring and made me glad to be part of the blogosphere. Those of you whom I met in person (or email with) are fantastic, and I’m lucky to know you.

That’s enough cheese (and vinegar) for to close out the year. Have a happy last day of 2006.

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>Hard to believe, but 2006 is almost gone. As every year is, it was chock full of change, progress, and unfortunate events. I thought a quick recap of some of the important things that happened this year under the rubric of Feminism & Gender – the topic for which I became a contributing editor at BlogHer this summer – would be enlightening as we look toward 2007. Without further ado, in no order whatsoever, I present 2006:

Plan B was finally approved for over the counter sales after years of political delays that prioritized the religion of some over scientific evidence that the medicine was safe and that it would help thousands of women. While this was a huge step in the right direction, the next hurdle for many women is finding a pharmacy that stocks the drug.

Katie Couric became the first female evening news anchor. Her publicity photo was airbrushed to take off a few pounds. Ratings were initially high, but dropped off over time. It seems that women are as boring as men when it comes to delivering the news. Yay, equality!

New York City announced a plan to make it easier for transgendered people to change the sex on their birth certificate. Weeks later, the plan was rescinded because of conflict with Department of Homeland Security rules and regulations. However, the decision to allow transgender people to use the restroom for whatever gender they consider themselves to be at Metropolitan Transit Authority rail stations (Long Island Railroad, MetroNorth, and subways) stands.

Lawrence Summers finally gets the boot after repeatedly insisting that women are biologically unable to excel at math or science. I hope the door did not hit his ass too hard on the way out. Or, perhaps such a sharp rap would have knocked some sense into him, as his thinking seems to emanate from that region. You know how men are.

A vaccine against HPV was introduced for young girls. While overall good news, manipulative advertising led consumers to believe that this will prevent cervical cancer, which is not entirely true. Fanatics protested that the vaccine will cause young women to be more promiscuous because it is obvious that one of the main reasons girls decide against premarital sex is fear of cervical cancer. Right.

The Dixie Chicks came out with a new album and documentary about their right to free speech and the controversy that ensued after they told concertgoers that they were ashamed that Bush hailed from their home state of Texas. Despite lack of radio play, the album sold 1.8 million copies and was nominated for five Grammys. Karmic victory.

The Duke rape case. Charges of rape were ultimately dropped against the three white lacrosse players from privileged backgrounds. The alleged (not my choice of term, but the charges were dropped, so I suppose I need to use it) victim was a black student who was hired to strip at a party at the team’s campus house. A nasty smear campaign was launched by the defense from day one. Regardless of the outcome, I’d like to know why there was not much outcry over alcohol-soaked parties featuring strippers for sports teams. In other rape news, the Pakistani legislature considered repealing Hudood laws, which requires women to have four male witnesses to prove she was raped; the UK launched a ridiculous ad campaign to remind men that rape is wrong; it was reported that girls in Cameroon are subjected to “breast ironing” to slow down their breast development so that they will not be raped; women in London protested lenient sentences on convicted rapists stemming from judges’ “blame the victim” mentality; and several cops in New Zealand were acquitted of raping a woman repeatedly, including with their police baton.

Nicaragua followed the example of El Salvador and banned abortions to save the lives of the mother. Isn’t it great that women’s lives somehow don’t count as life?

Britney Spears followed the very bad fashion advice of Lindsay Lohan and wandered around sans coulette. My eyes bled, yet like zillions of other people, I could not look away from the photos of her baldness. Amy Poehler became the hero of all women who fear dangerous objects like sharp razors, hot wax, or scary lazar beams near our crotches by delivering a wonderful monologue on Saturday Night Live promoting the joys of pubic hair.

Democrats won the majority of seats in the US House and Senate, and elected Nancy Pelosi as the first female Speaker of the House.

Several shooting incidents continued the fine tradition of angry men taking their rage out on random women for whatever slights or injustices they feel the world has inflicted upon them. These killings were not reported in the mainstream media as hate crimes, but ho-hum, another-dead-woman incidents. Yawn.

Madrid and Milan banned undernourished models from fashion shows. I ate a cupcake (OK, several) to celebrate.

Important women’s voices were lost when Betty Friedan, Ann Richards, Octavia Butler, and Ellen Willis died. Other women’s voices unfortunately scraped my eardrums and made them bleed: Ann Coulter, who attacked a book by a Sept. 11 widow criticizing the Bush by insisting that the author’s husband would have left her anyway had he not died first; Caitlin Flanagan, a writer with a maid and a full-time nanny who takes care of her offspring, insisted that women belong at home with the kids doing housework, and that feminists have ruined everything for women. Fortunately, we still had the Dixie Chicks.

Barnyard, an abrasive animated movie featuring male bovines with udders that also enforces gender stereotypes, grossed almost $100 million worldwide. It is probably the most gender-confused movie in history. Well, it confuses me anyway.

The battle around contraceptives gained new attention. As pharmacists around the nation refused to fill women’s prescriptions for birth control pills due to religious beliefs, Illinois (my state of origin) Gov. Rod Blagojevich took a stand and filed an injunction demanding that all women have the right to have their prescriptions filled in a timely fashion. In my current home state of New York, the State Court of Appeals upheld a law that requires employers – including religious organizations – who offer prescription drug coverage to their employees to include contraceptives. However, the year saw no new developments on Viagra, Levitra, and other erection drugs, reminding us that men’s sexual pleasure is a right, even if it might kill them.

Forbes ran a disturbing opinion piece ranting against career women and their unsuitability as wives under the category of “news.” Oh please. There’s nothing new about that – how long have we known that smart, ambitious women are unloving, frigid hags? At the same time, the Census found that 1/3 of married women were now the breadwinners in their families. I guess this emasculation of American men explains why Viagra is so popular that most insurance plans cover it.

The JonBenet Ramsey case was solved. Then it was not.

The South Dakota government banned abortions. The voters overturned the ban. Sometimes the people know what they are doing. Other times, they elect George W. Bush as President. I can’t explain it.

On the personal front, I quit my nicely paying job as a do-gooder a few months earlier than anticipated to attempt to forge a new career as a writer. It is thrilling and scary and enjoyable and depressing (at times, but then again, my old career was always depressing…) Husband also started a new job, but one that actually comes with a pay check. This is nice because he is very generous, thus I do not have to sleep on the street or eat trash although I make a whopping$100-$500 a month these days. He also does not need to listen to me complain. OK, not as much, anyway.
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I know that this was not remotely comprehensive, so please add any issues or happenings that you found significant this year.

Here’s hoping for a great 2007 for all! (OK, not all. I hope Bill O’Reilly, Rush Limbaugh, Ann Coulter, Michelle Malkin, George W. Bush, Dick Cheney, and other people lacking souls, morals, or any sort of conscious who contribute to making the world a worse place will have a terrible year. The first of many, even.) Happy New Year!

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>Yesterday at the dentist we said nasty shit about Rudy Giuliani while the dentist poked at my teeth quickly. He said that he was glad that Husband and I were his last two appointments of the year because we were in such great shape. I assumed that meant that my filling was not falling out. I should not assume things. I know that. But I also admit that I was in a hurry to get out of there since Dianne and her kid were waiting for us, so I left it alone and assumed all was well.

Once again, let me state I should not assume things. I should also not chew gum when I know in my heart of hearts that my filling is falling out. Oh, and it is a holiday weekend. I know you know what happened next. I did fish the filling out of my gum and put it in my pocket, although I have no idea why.

I guess 2007 will find me in a new dentist’s chair. In the meantime, I need to keep my hole clean. Heh heh.

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>So I found this comment about Victoria’s Secret in my email today:

They’re just doing their job, they were hired to wear the stuff and I bet if you had their bodies and you were hired to be an angel I’m sure you would. Im sure you would strut their stuff down that runway with the rest fo them. So please back off victoria secrets. Its not their problem that you can’t stay in shape

Actually, I am in decent shape. However, like 99% of women, I am not six feet tall. And if I were six feet tall, I would, like most women, probably weigh more than 115 pounds. Even if I were, I am not sure that “lingerie model” is a good profession for me. For one, it seems to require lots of waxing. A bit more reading of the “Campaign for Unshaved Snatch” might indicate that I am not so into that, which would be a major obstacle to a modeling career.

My point about Victoria’s Secret is that although I am in fact in decent shape and overall very average sized (meaning: there’s some junk in my trunk, like most women), the underwear does not look nearly as flattering on me because it is not made for real women to model. We all have a bit of flab. I realize that most men (and many women) don’t want to see underwear on real women with acutal bodies, but I can still complain about the unrealistic expectations that are out there. It’s funny how sensative people are when I protest the unattainable standards all women are measured against. Have a cupcake and relax. Yeesh.

Thanks for your (lack of) insight, though, Anonymous!

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>I wanted to post a hilarious picture of a back massager that my mom received from another teacher at her school for a holiday gift, but Husband seems to have misplaced the camera. The picture remains in the digital brains of the camera, so withouth it, I am shit out of luck. If an uproarious picture is taken and the camera is lost before anyone can see it and laugh, does it exist? How existential.

Today I am fortunate enough to be spending my day with the super talented Dianne (if you have a kid and live on the east coast, you need to hire her to paint a mural in your kid’s room – seriously) and her precocious and entertaining 5 year old daughter. We are going to look at holiday decorations. I am excited, although just thinking about the adventures to be had is making me a tad bit tired.

Also, I am going to my flaming gay dentist who also takes care of John Waters and a good portion of the staff at a non-profit organization that I worked at six years ago. I like him a lot, but he does a terrible job filling cavaties. Happily, I don’t get that many any more, but I think one of my existing fillings is falling out, so I am rather displeased. At least he is not unscrupulous. Sister’s Husband and Dr. P were both badly abused by dentists who drilled out all of their teeth, despite a suspicious lack of cavaties, when they were kids. Just thinking about that enrages me.

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>Thanks everyone for the kind birthday wishes! I had an awesome time yesterday, first waiting 90 minutes to drop off my visa application at the Indian Consultate, then meeting Hanah for tea (I gave her a fake name in yesterday’s post, but she reminded me that I wrote about her already when she lost her cat and can use her real name) although we were not able to do Japanese tea, as their website gave the wrong times. Hanah took me through the Whitney Museum and I learned at lot about modern art (she has a master’s in art history) and I loved the Kiki Smith exhibit, especially the giant glass jars that look like canisters used for flour and the like, but were engraved to say semen, pus, urine, blood, vomit, and other hilariously gross things. Then we went back to the Consulate to pick up my visa and waited another hour. Later at fondue, Dr. H told me that I was lucky I went in winter because last time she went, it was the summer and the place was not air conditioned. She almost fainted from the body odor. I can only imagine….

On Saturday night, I went out with Sister, Sister’s Husband (SH), and Husband for an early birthday celebration. (Yes, I am milking this one. Festivities started with an amazing Cold Stone Creamery ice cream cake on Dec. 17 at my in-law’s house, and have taken place on and off since.) There is a very fun rock ‘n’ roll dueling piano bar in downtown Chicago, and so we headed there. Sadly, my granny’s ulcerative colitis was acting up, so she was unable to join us. (She has gone a few times in the past and is the toast of the bar, with frat boys offering to buy her drinks and asking her to dance. It’s good times!)

Usually, there is a line out the door, but it seems like Christmas weekend is not great for business at rock ‘n’ roll dueling piano bars in downtown Chicago, so we headed right in and even found a table. I noticed two things right away: Chicago is full of smoking savages and women in Chicago really are larger than women in NYC (read: they look like normal human beings who eat on a daily basis). Also, the guys were all rather short. I am very spoiled by NYC’s progressive ban against smoking anywhere except for the street and private residences, so the smoke was killing me. On the other hand, I felt much more comfortable in my own skin when not surrounded by matchstick women. After an 90 minutes, I could no longer breathe (and not because I was sucking in my gut all night as I usually do), so I suggested we head out.

At that moment, a birthday dedication that Sister and SH had put in when we arrived was announced, and I was asked to join the stage with one other woman and two guys also out for their birthdays. The piano players then played “The Hokey Pokey.” (Yes, we found that weird, too.) I got into it a bit (two diet Cokes will do that to me – ha!) but when the women were asked to put their “ta-tas” in, I was a bit stumped. Under my thick wool sweater, I didn’t have much to strut. The other woman was much more voluptuous than I and had no problem with the request. Thinking quickly, I stuck my chest out as far as it would go and tried my best. Just after “shaking it all about,” it occurred to me that I should have just lifted my shirt up. I used to do that all the time after my breast reduction surgery, and Husband always tries to fling himself in front of my to behind my honor, which is hilarious. I bet the frat boys at the table in front of me would have loved that. Too bad I didn’t think fast enough. Oh well.

Anyway, good times and thanks again to all who contributed thus far to my extended birthday celebration.

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>I like turning 31 way more than I did 30. Husband pointed out that 31 is a prime number. Another friend noted that Baskin Robbins is known for their 31 flavors. This is all good.

As I was getting ready to take a shower earlier, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and noticed a gray/white hair. Further inspection revealed lots of dandruff (as I had not washed my hair since Saturday) and two more gray/white hairs. They glittered nicely in the light. I’m 31, so having gray/white hair is cool.

At 31, I am only one year away from 32, when the average woman hits her sexual peak. Ha! (I’m not sure what my point is, but that never stopped me before. Watch out, Husband? I’m only getting crazier?) Still, I don’t always look my age. Last week while I visited the Sauce in Pittsburgh, her housemate’s friend thought I was his age. He is 23, and one of my new favorite people. (He also said that I look like I weigh about 2 lbs. This guy really knows how to butter up an older woman, and I’m pretty sure that he was not trying.)

Today, I shall celebrate my birthday by first going to the Indian Consulate and applying for a visa for my upcoming trip to India. I’ll be traveling with my friend Ray, who I have known since I was in 6th grade, and other teachers and adult friends and family from the high school she works at. (Which, incidentally, is where Hilary Clinton and Harrison Ford were schooled in the ways of the world and carpentry.) We are going to be there for a week at the end of March, spending time in Delhi, Agra, and Jaipur. I am incredibly excited, although sad that Husband cannot go because he must work to support me and my non-income producing writing career. (OK, really, it’s because he just began his job in September and can’t get the time off, which SUCKS!) The only upside to this is that we will not both be in a hotel room with shit geysers of diarrhea, which I fully anticipate getting and I am certain that Husband would too.

After what I hope will be a quick process at the Consulate, I am meeting my friend Chava, who I know from high school. We will have tea at the Japanese tea room in the basement of a ridiculously fancy Japanese department store, and then head to the Whitney to see art by Kiki Smith, whom I have never heard of but Chava thinks I will like. Just like I have never been 31 before, I have never been to the Whitney. Good times ahead!

Finally, I will wrap up the epic day by meeting a group of friends for cheese and chocolate fondues. Hurray for my 31st birthday!

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>My delightful, wonderful, awesome friend Mara, who is 9 months pregnant, braved the Christmas crowds to take a photo of an incredibly offensive poster from my pals at PETA:Mara said it best in her email to me:

We love the fact that PETA thought to illustrate the fact that the only thing worse than killing poor little animals to appease the fashion gods is having an unshaved snatch. I guess that makes all of your disciples no better than those people who club little baby seals to death, or eat tuna that is not dolphin friendly. . . . .

You may note from the photo that I took the liberty of prying part of the poster from the wall so that the whole text was easily seen in the photo. I am not a fan of PETA. While I am all for having conviction in your beliefs, I am also for having respect for other people’s beliefs, and not doing things as nutty as, say, sending women dressed in lettuce bikinis to conservative Muslim countries to try and endorse the eating of vegetables, or dancing on the graves of people you do not like.

I am not surprised either that PETA (People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals) would engage in using such ridiculous image and offensive tag line, as they often do these kind of things. (The most recent issue of Bitch magazine had a very good article on this exact topic.) I have long loathed their sanctimonious asses. They LOVE saving innocent non-human animals from exploitation while sexualizing and exploiting human woman animals, who incidentally, are naturally hairy. Can you imagine them advocating for a sheep in a bikini to be shorn? Nope, that would be an outrage against nature! Glad that us homo sapien ladies have fewer rights than sheep when it comes to a wooly coat.

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>Many people around the world are celebrating Christmas today. Of course, December 25th has nothing to do with the [supposed] birth of the son of God, but the early Church needed to find a way to snooker more people into joining their cult/new religion. Don’t believe me? According to All About Jesus Christ:*

It wasn’t until A.D. 440 that the church officially proclaimed December 25 as the birth of Christ. This was not based on any religious evidence but on a pagan feast. Saturnalia was a tradition inherited by the Roman pagans from an earlier Babylonian priesthood. December 25 was used as a celebration of the birthday of the sun god. It was observed near the winter solstice.

I don’t think that a site “All About Jesus Christ” would make that shit up. Perhaps interpret it differently, but that’s another story.

Speaking of interpreting Bible stories, I thought today would be a good day to talk about the forced childbirth movement. People who participate in forced childbirth activities don’t like to talk about it that way, preferring innocent terms like “pro-life,” but they care about as much about people’s lives as they do about social justice.** Proponents of forced childbirth insist that women are baby-making machines, that sex is only for making babies, and nothing can interfere with this. Birth control of no kind is permissible because sex is not to be done for purposes of pleasure or mere intimacy. If you play with fire, bitch, you better be prepared to take the punishment.

Members of the forced childbirth movement like to idolize Mary, the New Testament mother of Jesus. However, I think that Mary is actually the perfect symbol for reproductive freedom. Basically, you can look at her story in two ways, and either way, there is some level of choice involved.

Interpretation 1: God thinks about who should bear His progeny. He could have chosen any number of quality, virtuous virgins, but He deliberately selects Mary, in part because he knew that she would agree to the plan. There was no coercion involved here. God didn’t want to knock up someone who would not be cool with dealing with an unexpected child.

Interpretation 2: God chooses Mary and sends the angel Gabriel to tell her. Mary asked how this would happen, and Gabriel told her, “The Holy Spirit shall come upon thee and the power of the most high shall overshadow thee.” Mary then said: “Let it be done according to Thy will.” I’m directly quoting the Anglican Parish of Camp Hill with Norman Park, part of the Diocese of Brisbane, Australia on this next part: “This one simple action of saying “Yes” to God changed everything. Mary became the mother of the Lord.” Mary made a choice. In her case, she said she’d be willing to have a child that she didn’t plan, but it was still a choice.

So this Christmas, I am making the (potentially blasphemous) argument that if Mary was allowed to make a choice as to whether she’d be willing to carry God’s baby to term, all women are allowed to determine what is best for themselves. No one has the right to force any woman to bear a child. Even God abided by that principle, and if it is good enough for God, it should be good enough for his people. Merry Christmas!

*Seriously, did you ever think a link like that would be used at CUSS? Me neither. It makes me laugh a lot to think about it.
**Meaning: some of the members of this movement really do try and make the world a better place, like the anti-choice liberation theologists, but most just like punishing women for daring to have sex and then reminding the resulting kids what worthless trash they are since they came out of sin by denying them health care, quality education, decent places to live, and adequate food.

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>Scene 1:

This afternoon, my mom showed Sister, Sister’s Husband, Husband, and me some of the holiday loot she received from other teachers at the school at which she works.
Sister: Oh, what did you get them?
Mom: I went to Crate and Barrel and bought those memo clips that you can put on your desk to display pictures or whatever. But then I thought more about it and returned them. Instead, I decided to use the money as a donation to the scholarship fund for the kids of a teacher who died suddenly this summer.
Me: That’s a nice idea. Did you do it with the names of the people the gifts were for?
Mom: No. I did it in my own name.

Scene 2:

The family – Husband, Bubbe, Granny, Dad, Mom, Sister, Sister’s Husband, and me – gather around the chipped dining room table to eat cake and celebrate my birthday. Conversation turned to other people, including someone we know who came home one day and found his fiancé dead on the floor.

Bubbe: She’s lucky she died before she found out what she was marrying.
Everyone else: (horrified laughter)
Granny: What?!?! That is a terrible thing to say! You don’t say things like that!
Bubbe (scowling and muttering to Sister’s Husband as if Granny is not sitting right there): She only defends him because she is also that way. A weirdo!

Scene 3:

Family is still gathered around the table.

Bubbe: We used to sing this song [referring to “Yankee Doodle”], “Stuck his finger in the ass and called it macaroni”
Dad: What? Stuck his finger in the pony?
Everyone else: (hysterical laughter)
Bubbe (annoyed): No! In his ass.

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Other conversation during the course of the day involved the need for doody-scented candles instead of other scents that cover up the smell of feces after a big dump and the unique phallic shape of a back massager that my mom received as a gift from another teacher. (Pictures to follow with more details.)

Click your heels together and repeat after me, “There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home….”

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