Personal Opinions vs. Prescriptiveness (NSFW)

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FYI (If you're a nosy asshole)

This post. I mean, this friggin post.  

Had the *ahem* pleasure of reading Mrs. Hall's lengthy missive to the teenaged girls who have Facebook friended her precious wee boys regarding the seemingly scandalous selfies young girls seem to like to take of themselves.  Mrs. Hall is quite concerned that her boys may be exposed to these wanton adolescent hussies, posing in their pajamas in sultry poses.  Some of these girls are even (gasp!) not wearing bras!

Mrs. Hall is trying to raise young men with a strong moral compass, who don't "linger over pictures of scantily clad ladies."  Which is apparently quite impossible to do when there are pictures of teenaged girls posing for selfies on the Internet.  Any female friend of the Hall boys who thinks of posting a vaguely sexy picture of herself online should consider themselves as good as blocked because Mrs. Hall only wants her boys thinking of girls respectfully and Gord knows, being a sexual being and being a human being worthy of respect are two mutually exclusive things.  Well, if you're a girl.. Isn't that right Mrs. Hall?

Mrs. Hall, I noticed that your boys are posted all over your blog in beachwear, which some would argue is much more revealing than pajamas or even a towel.  I guess girls (or non-hetero boys) can easily un-see that, though can they? And still think of your kids as people worthy of respect?  But you said yourself, once a boy sees a girl naked (or in towel, or in pajamas or without a bra) he can't unsee that.  You seem to have a high level of confidence in your boys' ability to behave like gentleman and not like rutting animals.  Or maybe not.  Because if you did, the spectre of some silly, pouty pictures wouldn't loom such a threat.

There are a dozen good reasons to be careful of what you post online.  Surveillance, online weirdos and pedophiles, and the fact that stuff you post does NOT GO AWAY are all things we should be concerned about and I agree that we should be encouraging kids (and adults, of any gender) to be extra self-critical of what they post.  These safety and privacy issues don't seem to be on your radar, however.  You seem more concerned about not letting these girls sully your preciouses virginal little minds.

I find the attitude that in order for men to respect and cherish women they must not think of them sexually is a harmful one.  The implication you've made here is that a girl or woman cannot be sexual while still being worthy of respect.  That is what we call, in feminist circles, slut shaming.  And it is harmful.  Girls are continually sexualized and objectified by our culture, while simultaneously being shamed if they dare to be sexual on their own terms.  A girl's history or perceived history can be used against her in sexual assault cases.  

Mrs. Hall, if you want your sons to be men of integrity who eventually meet and possibly marry women of character, teach them that a woman's worth is about more than her sexuality.  Teach them that being sexual and being a person worthy of respect.  Teach them their respect for someone should not be predicated on their sexual history or whether or not they're wearing a bra in their profile picture.  If you can't teach them that, I think my soon-to-be teenaged girls would be better off blocked.

Your vocabulary lesson for the day.

The English language is a complex tapestry of varying rules of grammar, spelling and uses. Individual words can hold multitudes of meanings and evolve over generations. Sometimes those meanings can evolve into ones that are hurtful and silencing. We have control over this and we can keep words from being hurtful by not using them in damaging contexts.

Words mean things.

I can't believe we're still having this conversation but here goes:

When you say something is gay when you really mean stupid, you are equating gay with stupid. It paints gayness as a negative trait, and it's not. Full stop. When you use this, you are insulting and marginalizing an entire group of people. Same with retarded. Hell, even same with lame.

Using the word stupid all the time gets boring, I know. And these can be difficult linguistic habits to break (believe me.. I've stuck my foot in my mouth on more than one occasion... Right Danno?

So for your convenience, here is a handy list of words that can be used in place of stupid that DON'T serve to marginalized entire groups of people for no good reason.

Stupid

Ridiculous
Ludicrous
Lacking common sense
Illogical
Inane
Nonsensical
Foolish
Sophomoric
Absurd
fucked up beyond comprehension
Horrendous
Preposterous
Banal
Vapid
Unimaginative
Unoriginal
Pedestrian
Laughable
Pointless
Puerile

Of course, some of these are better suited to some contexts more than others. This isn't even a comprehensive list. Your Thesaurus has all these and more. I hear they even have em online now.

Yeah. You're welcome.

My readers are helpful. See also:

Insipid
Stupidiotic

Feel free to add suggestions in the comments.

Affirmative Consent and Erring on the Side of Caution.

I was introduced to a new term the other day - Hate-Reading.  You know, that thing when you continually read the same web site or subscribe to the same media outlet even though the thoughts and opinions expressed are generally full of fail and make your teeth itch?

One of my recent hate-reads has been Slate.com's resident advice giver, Dear Prudie. The other is The Stir by CafeMom (with the exception of Jenny Lawson and Becky Harks - they're pretty awesome) but that's a blog rant from another day.

Anyway, dear Prudie usually has few gems up her sleeve, such as the post linked above where she basically plays into the idea that someone who drinks heavily can't really be raped, they're probably just ashamed. Yup, we're still not over this. Twenty-first century, even. Yeah, Prudie is kind of an asshole but that's not really what I'm talking about here.

It brought up an interesting discussion on feministe regarding good consent when drugs and alchohol are involved. Somehow in these discussions there is always someone who wants a clear line in the sand showing exactly when someone is too drunk to consent, like legally. It's friggin' sketchy, like people want to know "exactly To what extent can I take advantage of a situation before I am legally culpable?"

Dude (or Dudette, because you know, it happens) if you have to ask, you probably have or will cross that line.

Where's the problem of erring on the side of caution and if you're not in a position where you're entirely sure you have genuine consent, then politely back off.

Remember that movie, the one where Michael Cera played Michael Cera playing every role he's ever had and sang "These Eyes" and Jonah Hill was fat and loud and the cops blew up the car and the drunk chick tried to blow Michael Cera but he said no because she was pathetically drunk?

You can learn a lesson from that movie. A lesson besides the one that says cops are generally bored and really do want to be your friend, because they're afraid of becoming irrelevant and old. Shocking, I know.

Worst thing that happens when you say to a drunk person that you're not comfortable having sex with thm when they're drunk is that you don't have sex that night. Not the end of the world.

Okay, one guy argued that someone could take great offense at you refusing to have sex with them, and assume you are an agency-denying, patriarchal slut-shamer, to which I say that consent works both ways. The non- or less-drunk party also has the right to say no, regardless of the other person's hurt feelings. So in that situation I say that the worst thing that will result from saying no is that you don't get to have sex with an asshole that night.

Before I close off I just want to mention that "erring on the side of caution" doesn't have to mean that once that bottle of wine has been cracked that all bets regarding sexy times are off, no matter who you are. Mileage is going to vary depending on the consenting adults involved: their trust levels, previous dialogue, and hell, alcohol tolerance comes into play as well. Just remember, affirmative consent is the presence of "Yes", not the absence of "No". And if that yes is more like a Yesshhhh, unless you Trust each other well enough or your date just happens to have a lisp, take that yessssshhhhh with a grain of salt, because it's a damn site better to be called an asshole than a date-rapist.

Come On, Canada.. we're dropping the ball on that 'human rights' thing.

Okay, so first there was that story a while back about how all those same-sex marriages that people rushed to Canada to get weren't actually valid if they weren't recognized in the place where the couples actually lived.  That was some kind of fuck-up indeed.  I'm not sure what the point of travelling somewhere to get married is if it's not going to be recognized elsewhere.

Free tourism, I guess?

Now, it seems that there is a regulation on the books that essentially bars pre-op transgender folks from boarding airplanes for travel.  (I just want to mention that I'm not totally comfortable with the term 'pre-op' as it implies that all transgender folks WILL eventually opt for SRS - not all do.)

From blogger Chris Milloy's website:

The offending section of the regulations reads:

5.2 (1) An air carrier shall not transport a passenger if …
(c) the passenger does not appear to be of the gender indicated on the identification he or she presents;

Milloy points out that the rule, which came about last July is not actually a piece of legislation, but a regulation put forth by the Ministry of Transportation, and as such didn't have to be subject to a lot of pesky votes and such.  No, they pretty much just said so and that was that.

Really, guys?  We have a reputation to uphold, here.  We're supposed to be the bastion of human rights in North America and we're kind of failing miserably.

Unlike the constant attacks in the U.S. on pretty much anyone who's not at the top of the kyriarchy, which have been well publicized and put right out there for our amusement and/or horror, these kind of things seem to be happening pretty quietly, with an air of 'Oh, well that's not what we meant.'

It's been said before, and Imma say it again:  INTENT.  IT AIN'T MAGIC

So even if a law is not 'meant' to be discriminatory, if it causes issues for a commonly marginalized group, then it's discriminatory.

It strikes me funny that, in the wake of the election of a Conservative Majority these governmental microaggressions seem to be popping up more frequently, but always in such a way as to allow for plausible denial and magical intent.  My inner conspiracy theorist, who makes an appearance every so often, would probably think that no, suddenly backsliding on gay marriage would be a bad political move.. but what if the law was just written poorly?  It'd reflect poorly on the government to just say 'Hey.. we aren't gonna let transgendered folks fly' but if we wrote the regulation in the name of safety?  Who doesn't like safety?

Tricky, tricky, tricky.

But then again, you'd have to be kind of a jackass, or have not had ANY exposure whatsoever to gender issues to see how such a regulation would fuck with people who don't necessarily gender-identify with what's in their pants.  In which case, makes this some pretty fucking blatant discrimination.

*Privilege disclaimer:  My experience with transgender issues is pretty limited, so if I've made use of some iffy terms or concepts here, please feel free to call me out in the comments.

just a random thing that sucks...

listening to a really awesome song.. then pausing to listen to the lyrics and finding that they're.. um.. well, a bit rapey.

I know, I know.  Everyone and their grandma goes through bit of cognitive dissonance this at Christmas time when they listen to 'Baby it's cold outside' and find themselves singing along with Dean Martin (or possibly Will Ferrell) as he alludes to spiking his date's drink (in Ferrell's case, the adorable Zooey Deschanel) during what is possibly the rapiest christmas carol going.  Possibly? No, definitely.

I've run into it other times as well.  Outside of the Hair Metal and Gangsta Rap genres, even.

Example?

Bruce Springsteen's "Fire" (mistakenly attributed to Jeff Buckley on my Grooveshark playlist)  Honestly, I don't know who performs the version I have.  all I know is that although I still dig the melody I get a little squicked out when I take a close listen to the lyrics:

I’m driving in my car, I turn on the radio
I’m pulling you close, you just say no
You say you don’t like it, but girl I know you’re a liar
`Cause when we kiss, Fire

Late at night I’m takin’ you home
I say I wanna stay, you say you wanna be alone
You say you don’t love me, girl you can’t hide your desire
`Cause when we kiss, Fire

There's something off here.  Bruce as the narrator doesn't seem to quite grasp enthusiastic consent, and seems a little co-ercive in his efforts to woo his date.  Accusing one of lying is definitely romantic as well, don'tcha think?

I betcha 'But... Your Honor... When we kissed.... FIRE!!' would be an awesome defence in a date rape trial.

This is why I can't have nice things.

I just had the puberty talk and the sex talk at one time and now I need a drink, thanks.

Parenting with a straight face is hard.

It started with me telling the eldest child that we were going to make a point of going bra-shopping in the near future.  Although I may be less than observant sometimes, my kids a little bit on the exhibitionist side, a by-product of being an all-female household.  They're more modest at their dad's place, but here I sometimes find myself having to go "Seriously kid, put some damn pants on!"  So needless to say, I've noticed that.. well.. a shopping trip may be in order.  She's getting about that age. 

I was about eleven when I got my first bra, only a  year older.  In all honesty, I probably could have used one earlier but I was inclined to fight growing up tooth and nail, until in exasperation my mother foisted about five plain white training bras on me.  My period of denial was over.  Talk about your paradoxes.  My mom had one kid who spent each day looking down her top from the time she was about six years old, praying for the boobs that she finally got around the age of 35, and another kid who was fighting puberty with all the insistence of a pitbull on a leash who was probably doomed, if paternal aunts and cousins were any indication, to double-Ds by the time she turned 14.  (Thankfully my development ended as quickly as it started and I've remained comfortably 'average' boob-wise).

So the boobie talk turns into the period talk.  Don't get me wrong, my kids have been pretty cognizant of the concept of menstruation as it's not something I get all secretive about, but tonight we got into the logistics of this monthly occurence, the how's and the why's, beyond just "Hey kids, guess what.  Mom bleeds from her vag once a month, and eventually you will too.  Happy Birthday".

So the period talk turns into the 'Where Babies Come From' talk... ("Well, honey, mommy went to the hospital, the doctor put her to sleep and when she woke up she had a giant scar and a baby.")... which turns to the "How Do Babies Get There?" talk.  Which makes for a lot of "Ewwwww.."  and "That's weird!"

So, being MY children and clearly having inherited their mother's maternal instinct, this led to the "Dear God, How Do You AVOID Babies?" conversation, aka the Birth Control conversation.  I was heartened that the oldest had a clear grip on the concept of abstinence, but I went through the spiel of other methods as well.

Somehow this also led to the "How do gay people have babies?" conversation and my telling them about adoption, mostly (I was going to touch on in vitro, but they were getting bored by this time) and that it's not necessary to spell out gay - it's not a bad word.

I've come to the conclusion that along with being honest with your kids, it's also important to acknowledge if you, as the parent, feel a little embarassed answering a question... because it's going to show anyway, and I would think that it's better than pretending not to be.  Maybe that would encourage them to know it's okay to be a little embarassed to talk about such things, but that even if embarassing, they are still subjects that should be discussed.

  I dunno.. It's hard not to question myself in these situations.. am I telling to much?  Am I telling to little? Am I going to give them some kind of self-loathing complex where they think all sex is dirty or depraved or am I going to say or not say something that will lead to me becoming a grandmother before the age of forty? 

It's enough to keep you up at night.

A Very Special Reverse Objectification Wednesday.

Thank you, Sarah Lindahl (and Kira) for providing the inspiration for this post.

Think back.

Way back.  Your first crush.  No, maybe crush is the wrong word.  Crush can mean "Aww gee, I like you.  You're fun.  Let's ride bikes."  which is an awesome and cool way to feel about someone, but not quite what I'm getting at.

Think back to the awakening.  Yeah, that one.  The first time you had that tingly-in-the-pants (or for the gentleman, that tight-in-the-pants) red-faced I'm-gonna-barf feeling.  When suddenly, kissing wasn't gross anymore.

I was somewhere in the ballpark of eleven or twelve years old.  I'm going to let you in on a little secret.  It's not something I'm proud of, but it's a part of my past and there's nothing I can do to change it now.

The object of my pre-adolescent lust?  Here goes...  no, come closer...

Scott Bakula.

What?  You didn't catch that?  Okay, fine.  *sigh*

Scott Bakula.

Source

Shut up.

There was a love scene, I don't recall if it was in an episode of Quantum Leap or in the less-than-stellar football movie, Necessary Roughness, but my face went red and the pants got tingly and suddenly I didn't know where to look.

I think it may have been the latter, because I remember Mom took me and a bunch of kids from trailer park where we used to camp to the show, and I had a huge crush on one of the guys that came with us, even though he was two years older than me.  This may have added to my discomfort, since I had been inadvertently given new fodder for my inappropriate pubescent daydreams.

So how about you all?  Who was your first fantasy/crush/objet d'lust? (Je parle le francaise plus not real great)

A few quick thoughts on SlutWalk (or "Oh great.. here she goes again..")

I've really been wanting to write about this, but my thoughts on the situation have been a bit muddled.  It occurred to me that many people were not clear on what the point of it all really was.

I mean, many people by now have heard the story of the cop in Toronto who was reprimanded for telling a group of women that they can avoid being victimized by 'Not dressing like sluts.'  Naturally this pissed a lot of people as victim-blaming based on clothing choice, based on how much someone has chosen to drink... well, it's all old hat by now.

The name Slutwalk is problematic, yes.  There are historical contexts around the word that hold different meanings for people of different backgrounds and cultures.  My understanding of these contexts is, well, shoddy at best, so if it seems like I'm glossing over them, it's just because I have not done adequate research into the issues behind the etymology.  In the context of the Toronto walk, it made sense.

It's not about the right to dress "slutty" (well, it is.. but slutty is a subjective term... hold on, I'm getting ahead of myself.)  It's not about the right to sleep with whomever you want, whenever you want.  It's not about the idea of taking back the word "Slut" - something I myself am less than totally comfortable with.  Yes, making a word taboo can give it power to hurt, but taking away the taboo doesn't necessarily take away the sting.

Basically what it boils down to is this:

No mater {sic} who you are or what you do, EVERYBODY is a slut in somebody’s estimation, and that means that as long as our culture makes “sluts” rapeable, it is a threat to us all.

Basically, it's the idea that one's perception of whether or not someone dresses like, or is, a 'slut' is NOT a justification for assault, and that policing women on their manner of dress, even out of sincere concern, contributes to a culture that puts the onus for risk reduction on victims to protect themselves from rape and other forms of sexual assault, rather than on the people doing the assaulting.

Basically, a Yes is a Yes.  A short skirt is not a yes. A pair of yoga pants is not a Yes.  A MuuMuu is not a Yes.

But when people say things like "Look at that girls' skirt, she looks like she's 'asking for it'" or when we slut-shame each other, we turn it into a "Yes, but..."

"Yes, people shouldn't rape, but... if (girls wouldn't dress so slutty) (didn't drink so much) (didn't leave their drinks unattended) (didn't smile and flirt so much)... they wouldn't get raped"

This is victim-blaming.  This is rape apology.  The point of the Slutwalk is not to get dressed up in your sleaziest attire and strut your stuff (although I'm sure some did), but rather was to point out that anyone, at any time, can be branded a Slut and as such, in our current culture can face blame for their own victimization.  Me.  You.  Anybody.

Two Rape Apology Tropes that Just Need to Stop Now.

April at Ethecofem posted a great article this week on victim-blaming in society for everything from rape, to poverty, to obesity.

I made a couple of comments that I wanted to expand into a blog post, regarding common tropes used in rape apologism.

Trope #1  - Rape =/= Being hit on.

Being raped or assaulted is not the same as being hit on. I cannot stress this enough. But it seems that every time brings up the topic of victim blaming, especially in regards to someone's manner of dress, some jackass always brings up the "Why do women get all dressed up if they don't want to get hit on?"

I'll say it again.. being raped or assaulted is NOT the same as being hit on.  It's not a compliment.  Don't try to equate them.  Ever.

If I get all gussied up and head out on the town looking like a million bucks, then no, I shouldn't be surprised if someone offers to buy me a drink, or asks me to dance, or asks for my number.

THAT IS CALLED BEING HIT ON.

However, if I go out all tarted up and someone asks to buy me a drink, and then puts drugs in it, or gets belligerent and abusive if I decline a dance, or corners me in the parking lot after I leave, well that is NOT okay. No matter HOW hot/slutty/provocative (because the semantics are objective, you know) I am dressed.

THIS IS ASSAULT.  SEE THE DIFFERENCE?

This was the point that was being made by the Toronto Slut Walk last week.  It wasn't about whether or not it's cool to dress 'slutty' or whether it should be socially acceptable to do so - especially when the definition of what is considered 'slutty' is subjective, as is the perception of what the term actually means.  Personally, I think a lot of women could stand to show a little more class in how they dress.  But I do not ever think that manner of dress should be justification for being assaulted.  And that's why there was such an uproar over the OPP officers comments.

Trope #2 - Rape =/= Having your car Stolen.

Another common argument is the 'if you leave your car unlocked you shouldn't complain when it gets stolen'.  I'm just going to repost my response to the guy who made this comment on April's post:

So if a person leaves his car parked on the street with the keys in the ignition and the windows rolled down and the car gets stolen, would it be victim-blaming to say, "Hey, maybe you shouldn't have made it so easy to steal your car"?

Here is my response.  I don't really feel a need to add anything.

When you leave your car running on the street unlocked with the keys in the ignition, and someone steals it, no one argues whether the car was actually stolen or not. No one denies the validity of the claim of theft, regardless of how easy it was. No one ever says "Well, do you think they really stole the car? The car owner must have wanted them to have the car. I mean, they gave away their last car, so they must have wanted the the so-called car thief to have this one. Now they're just saying it was stolen so they don't look like fools who give their cars away."

And ultimately, yes, it's still victim-blaming, because even being dumb enough to leave a car running with the keys in the ignition doesn't let someone off the hook for saying "Hey, this isn't mine, but I'm taking it anyway."

Oh, there's that whole pesky issue of women's bodies not being the equivalent to personal property or an inanimate object such as a friggin' CAR. But I'm sure you knew that already.

So folks, can we please stop with these two incredibly lame arguments already?

We're not all Johnny Cash here...

Jezebel posted an article today about a Republican in Indiana who voted down a exception that would allow abortion to be an option for victims of rape and incest because it might encourage women to lie about being raped in order to get abortions.  The exception was voted down because it would create a 'giant loophole' and that "someone who is desirous of an abortion could simply say that they've been raped or there's incest."

This bothered me on a number of levels.  I might have an easier time with this if the concern was that it may result in wrongful rape convictions, then I could say well, that's a good point, kind of.   Lord knows, we don't need people wrongfully imprisoned, nor do we need more people to doubt the validity of actual rape accusations.

She's just saying he raped her because she wants an abortion.  


Yeah, let's add THAT to a list of handy rape defenses.

But there's no mention I've seen about this concern.  The GOP still seems mainly concerned with making sure that sexually active women face the 'consequences of their actions'.  Besides, if the concern WAS an increase in false accusations of rape/incest, then it'd be just as easy to avoid such a situation by NOT restricting availability to cases of rape and incest, thus negating the need to lie about it.

The other thing that bothers me about these lines of rhetoric is that the right-wing and the pro-life movement seems to be under the impression that women fighting for reproductive choice are simply clamoring for the opportunity to have an abortion of their very own.

I want to make this very clear. No one WANTS to go through this.

The way some folks put it, however, you'd think there were thousands of women out there, getting themselves knocked up on purpose so they can be ready for that uber-trendy photo op outside the abortion clinic.

We're not Johnny Cash here.  We're not shooting men in Reno, just to watch them die.

No witty title here, just some seriousness.

Quick Trigger Warning.  If you're triggered by sexual assault, you may want to skip this post.  

*****************************************************

A week or two ago a friend and reader sent me a link to a story that was more than a little infuriating.  It seems a convicted rapist in Thomson, Manitoba was given a slap on the wrist because the victim and her friend had "made their intentions publicly known that they wanted to party"

In the article it's noted that the judge felt that there was miscommunication and so instead of mandatory jail time, the perpetrator, Kenneth Rhodes, was given a conditional sentence, even though the Crown wanted three years minimum.

Rhodes pleaded not guilty at the trial on the basis he thought the woman had consented. Dewar rejected his defence -- but said aspects of it can now be considered in sentencing.
"This is a different case than one where there is no perceived invitation," said Dewar. "This is a case of misunderstood signals and inconsiderate behaviour."

At first I didn't really know how to deal with this.  Any articles I found didn't give many actual details of the evening, other than than the usual speculation of what the women had been wearing (typical, right?), the fact that they went into the woods with Rhodes and his friend, and implications that Rhodes had "misunderstood her intentions when he forced intercourse" on her.  P.S. Kenny, if you have to 'force' it, it's probably unwanted.  Enthusiast Consent, folks, it's a wonderful thing. 

Still, part of me wondered if maybe there was some mistake?  So I hesitated on commenting on the story, until later I had a 'Slap-your-forehead' moment and went "Hang on a minute!  This was a SENTENCING hearing.. not the trial itself!"  So even thought I didn't know the details of what actually went on, based on media coverage, clearly, the jury and/or judge or whatever felt there was enough evidence to support a rape conviction, a charge that, in Canada, requires jail time at minimum.  The sentence is the equivalent of saying "Okay, well *technically* you're guilty, but not really, because she had it coming, being all sexy like that.  Silly girl."

The judge on the case, Robert Dewar was later reprimanded for his comments and removed from cases of a sexual nature.

Have we not gotten over this yet, people?  Have we not gotten over the idea that someone can 'ask' to be raped? No, apparently not.

A local radio personality, Meg Whitton of the 104.1 The Dock wrote about an experience she had at a campus safety assembly at York University.  One of the Toronto police officers told the assembly they could avoid rape by not dressing like a slut. Thankfully the Toronto police chief was quick to eschew the troubling statement from his underling, but as Meg had pointed out, the issue is a lot bigger than a lack of sensitivity on the part of one or even a number of police officers.  It's a problem that is STILL rampant in society.  We constantly look for reasons to justify rape, even in the most heinous of cases.

Take this past week.  The New York Times came under fire for their wholly slanted coverage of a story of an eleven-year-old girl in Cleveland Texas who was gang-raped in an abandoned trailer by up to 18 men.  The NYT were called to task for their coverage that seemed to smack of victim blaming.  Local townsfolk were quoted asking where the child's parents were (fair question, but more importantly, where were the parents of the boys involved?).  They also quoted townsfolk about the little girls manner of dress and activities:

They said she dressed older than her age, wearing makeup and fashions more appropriate to a woman in her 20s. She would hang out with teenage boys at a playground, some said.

 This quote is my personal favorite (note dripping sarcasm):

“It’s just destroyed our community,” said Sheila Harrison, 48, a hospital worker who says she knows several of the defendants. “These boys have to live with this the rest of their lives.” 

I sure the fuck hope so.  I hope it haunts them in their nightmares.  I hope at least one of them wakes up in a cold-sweat, night after night, screaming and shaking with guilt over what they have done to a little girl. 


Can I just reiterate that this was an 11-year-old child?  A LITTLE GIRL. 

I'm wondering where the concern for this little girl is from the locals.  I haven't even mentioned that the men, who ranged in age from roughly 14 up to 27, videotaped the attack on a cell phone and passed it around.  This is how the situation came to the attention of the police, when one of the victims classmates told a teacher that they had seen a video of the attack.

Speaking as the mother of a beautiful, innocent, almost-ten-year old, I'm concerned for this poor East Texas girl, who may have already been dealing with issues at home or in her life, who now has to live for the rest of her life with not only being brutalized by up to 18 men, but also having the knowledge that via wonderful fucking technology, god only knows how many people have witnessed her humiliation.  And to top it off knowing that most of the community seemed to be more concerned with how this little girl may have brought it on herself.

I say, fuck that community.  They sound like a bunch of backward assholes.

Those that claim that the Times article wasn't slanted at all may wonder why they left out this particular quote, that was included in the release from the Associated Press:

"She's 11 years old. It shouldn't have happened. That's a child," said Oscar Carter, 56, who is related to an uncle of one 16-year-old charged in the case. "Somebody should have said what we are doing is wrong."

 Regardless if it's the media or a group of townspeople or the comments section in some of these articles, which I try not to read as it makes me stabby and kind of like I want to vomit, I really have to ask what kind of effed up world we live in where people will look for a reason to justify the gang-raping of an eleven-year-old girl.  That we would look for reasons such as someone's dress in order to take responsibility off of that of the rapist and on to the victim.

These attitudes not only harm women, but men as well.  Because it paints the idea that men cannot help raping women, that, if provoked by a woman (or, shit.. an 11-year-old CHILD's) attire they will have no choice but to attack.  It presents the idea that men are driven so wild by the sight of a woman dressed provocatively that they are unable to control themselves.  Which is bullshit, at absolute best. 

I know a lot of men who are fully capable of reasoning beyond the needs of their own dick.  I believe that the majority of all men out there are fully capable of this.  Fully capable of reading signals, and looking for enthusiast consent.  And the ones that aren't, need to be in prison.

Who is Snoop Dogg and Why is he hanging around my dog house?

Today, over at Simple Dude in a Complex World, SD posted a blog about internet porn, which reminded me of a story from my convenience store days.

For most of my early 20's I worked off and on for a independently run Convenience store (as opposed to a chain like 7-11 or Mac's).  Our magazine rack was topped off by what was possibly the largest collection of porn to be found outside of any adults-only shop.  We also had a wide array of X-rated video-cassettes for sale, well out of reach of any young shoppers.

In SD's post he questions why anyone still buys porn when it's readily available on the internet.  I maintain that some people would rather shell out cash for DVD's than to pay someone to clean their hard-drive once a month.  Much like in real-life, the cheaper and easier porn is to acquire, the better chance of picking up a virus.

I have two stories related to the giant porno-fest that was the top-shelf of our magazine racks that stick out in my mind to this day.  One day, a girl about my own age comes in, and furtively starts checking through the tapes.  After picking one out, she approaches the counter, eyes down.  I ring it up, trying my damnedest not to smirk, but I'm kind of a child so I'm not doing a great job.

"It's not for me."
"Okay." It's none of my business, you know?
"It's my friend's birthday and we want to get him a gag gift.  My asshole friends made me buy it so they don't look like perv's."
"No worries.  That'll be [book value of VHS porn circa 2001], please"

She pays, takes the tape and skulks out.  I allow myself a bit of a giggle.  A few minutes later, the door jingles and she comes back in, beet red in the face.

"Hello, can I help you?"
"I can't fucking believe I'm asking you this...", she says, grumbling.  "Do you have anything with more lesbians?  Apparently I picked the wrong one because it doesn't have enough friggin' LESBIANS."
"I.. uh.. um.. don't really know what the um.. lesbian ratio is on any of these movies.  I haven't seen them.  Sorry."
"*sigh* it's okay.  gah. Idiots."

Goes over to shelf, grumbling to herself.  Comes back and slams another tape down on the counter and proclaims "I'm getting this one and if they don't like they can bloody well come back here and pick one themselves!!"

My other story involves a group of about 3 college aged guys that came in one day.   I smiled and giggled to myself as they were very loudly talking about the selection and I got the impression that this was another gag gift purchase.  They made no bones about being in a small-town convenience store buying porn, and I was having a hard time hiding my amusement.

Now, although I was fully aware that we had a well-stocked porn selection, I can't say I was real familiar with the specific titles we carried.  So I was totally unprepared when they came up and put this on the counter:

Source

I lost my shit, right then and there.  At that point in time I was complete unaware that Snoop Dogg had even produced porn, let alone that we had this little nugget right in our little convenience store.

I lost it.  In a completely uncompromising professional manner,  I started laughing hysterically and could not stop.  I tried to duck down behind the counter, but that was a completely pointless pursuit, so between giants gulps of air in an attempt to catch my breath, tears streaming down my face, I attempted to apologize.

"I'm sorry... hahah... I just... I mean I didn't know... SNOOP DOGG... BWAHHAHAHAH... omg.. don't mean to... *gasp* ... just didn't know... *giggle*  ....I'm so sorry.. *gasp*.... heheheheheh"

The guys, being in the jovial mood that they were, took my embarrassment from my outburst and just ran with it, feigning great indignance.

"Well, I never!"
"Where's your sense of professionalism?"
"They wouldn't have treated us like this at the Triple-X store!"

Finally I managed to catch my breath and ring them through, but I continued to giggle like an idiot for a good hour after they left.

*****************************************

In other news, my friend Sean who blogs over at SeansJeep got called last night for the lung transplant he's been waiting on.  Last update was that he had come out of surgery with no complications.  So, although he's not completely out of the woods, that is very very good news indeed.  He's got a great support system and we've all be sending our thoughts, prayers, hoodoo and whatnot out for a good recovery.

Karaokeing tonight, haven't been down to the Legion since before Christmas I believe.  Feel like having some beers and belting some tunes.  There's a coffeehouse tomorrow night as well at a local church so I'll be packing the guitar up  and playing some songs there as well.

Enjoy your weekend, all.

My cat issue as a metaphor for family planning

Hey!  Guess what I learned today!  Cats have no natural aversion to incest.  Isn't that lovely?  Do you know what that means for me?  It means that my remaining kittens have spent the last day or so trying to bugger their mother.  Gross.  So I've sequestered poor Chloe to the bathroom until I can A) find homes for the boys and/or B) set her up an appointment to get fixed.

I've got ads in Craigslist, Kijiji and on Facebook to find the not-so-little ones homes, because frankly, four cats in this tiny house is too many.  Going to make a poster tonight as well.  I've kicked the boys outside for an hour or two so Mama Chloe can actually roam the house in peace until i decide to go to bed.

But isn't it typical that I have to lock the girl away so she doesn't get knocked up?  Of course, it is easier when the males out number her 3-1 (although Spartacus isn't a problem, having long parted ways with his wee baby-makers before he joined this household) but yeah... She suffers cause the boys 'just can't control themselves'.  Typical.  Of course, they ARE just cats.  Not people.

Isla de Encanta - Day Eight, Apparently. Momma, I'm coming home.

I was not ready to fly home Thursday.  I missed the girls, and I missed my guitar and beyond that.. well, I would have made do.  I would have forged the girls some passports, and had them and the axe shipped to me if it meant I could stay on the beach for just a little while longer.

Nonetheless, I got up early, packed up all my shit and headed down to breakfast.  You know how you can never seem to pack everything up the same way you did when you arrived somewhere?  Yeah, I'm really glad I'm not big on buying souvenirs for people.  I had a drum, a chess set, and a flute and a plinky-plunky weird instrument to bring home.. somehow, someway, I got it all into my suitcase, oddly enough, and ended up with LESS in my carry-on bag even.  The plan was to check out and then take all my stuff to Kaylee and Mindy's room since check out time was 1pm, but my bus for the airport didn't leave until 8pm.  This would save me either paying for late-checkout, or storing or lugging my shit around for the rest of the day.

A few times I was close to tears, I did NOT WANT TO LEAVE.  All I could think of was having to go right back to work on Monday, and snow.  Holy crap, I did NOT want to see snow.  Especially knowing that we were supposedly supposed to get a giant mother of all snow-storms here, and knowing that my car would be sitting at the Park N Fly for a week in all that B.S.

Really, would you want to leave this...

...for this?  Photo Credit

So I spent the morning on the beach, guerilla-tanning because to my naked eye, I still looked Irish as all hell.  Go SPF 30.  I set my phone alarm so I would know when it was time to go check out.  When I went to the check out desk, I ran into Alain the Quebecois taxguy and his friend at the front desk heading out for an excursion.  In the name of keeping what happens in the tropics, in the tropics, I chit chatted, told them I was checking out and wished him a pleasant remainder of his holiday but did not ask for contact info.  He kissed me good bye and wished me well and that was that.

I just shared a rather awkward lunch with an elderly German by the name of Fritz who spoke not a work of English.  After a stilted introduction, we chewed in silence for a good ten minutes.  Upon finishing, I didn't want to just walk away so I said a quick "Guten Tag, Fritz," as it's the only German I know.  "Ah, Danke Shen (sp?)" he replied.
I think I've hit my weirdness threshold for this trip.  - Vacation Journal, 02/04/2011

Yup, the lunch with the elderly German man was an interesting point to the trip.  For the remainder of the day we kind of took it easy, sat on the beach some more, then went back to the plaza for a while as we still had not completed our souvenir shopping.  We spent a good amount of time in one store that was being run by two friendly local girls, one of whom was fascinated with both mine and Kaylee's facial piercings and expressed a wish to get something of her own done.  The music they were playing was killing me, in a good way.. they were playing bossa nova type covers of Guns 'N' Roses songs by an unknown (to me) female singer.  Most other GNR fans might kill me for this, but man, they were AWESOME and I wanted to find out where I could get the CD, because I would have played the hell out of that at home.

I made a mistake in my last post and it was actually the last night while we were waiting for the buffet to open up that we ran into our family from Listowel and had our pictures taken.

About five minutes before the bus for the airport showed up, I realized I didn't have my travel documents in my purse and I pretty much lost my shit.  After rifling through my bags near tears and muttering 'ohshitohshitohshitohshit' I ran like the devil back to the girls' suite and lo and behold there they were, on the kitchen table, so I grabbed them and ran like the devil back to the lobby.

Getting on the bus I struck up conversation with my seatmate, whose name escapes me now, and it struck me how comfortable I got over the week with just talking to strangers.  A week previously I had sat silent and awkward and not talking or making eye contact.  One week later I was telling this guy from Newmarket my life story.

Vacations make you friendly.

I narrowly escaped an awkward three and a half hour plane ride when I misread my boarding pass and sat myself down in row 11, seat H only to discover 10 minutes later that J, one of the young hamilton boys who had been systematically avoiding and/or being vaguely awkward with me since things had gotten a bit hot'n'heavy at the beginning of the trip came and sat down in seat J.  Hoo boy, yes that would only happen to me.  Weird.  However, one of the other guys came up and made the discovery that I was in HIS seat, to which I had to ask "Well, where the hell am I sitting?" to which I replied to myself "Oh, you're sitting another ten rows back, you jackass."

So I suffered 5 or so minutes of awkwardness of looking creepy in exchange for 3 hours of awkwardness sitting one seat away from my holiday booty call.  I'll take looking like an idiot who can't read a boarding pass, thanks.

However, these guys were not to get rid of me so easily, because after the flight, and customs and such I got my stuff and got on the shuttle bus to the Park N Fly, and all bloody twelve of them were on the bus.. and as it turns out, were parked about six spaces away from me.  Oh, and the good news is that my car had maybe 2 cups of snow on it, so there was no digging to be done, which is good because I had a 3 hour drive to Mildmay to embark on so that I could attend the wedding of one of my best friends that day.

That's right, I de-planed, drove out to farm country in the middle of the night and went to a wedding the next day, because I am hard-core like that.  It was a beautiful wedding too, small but very elegant, and pulled together in a very short period of time.  Krys and her new hubby Dean seemed ridiculously happy, and I am happy for them.  Warms this cynical jaded heart of mine.

The restaurant where they had the reception was attached by a small corridor to a sports lounge so after all the family went home, we went to the lounge and in all our wedding finery had some beers and did some karaoke.  I ran into the ex-girlfriend of one of my online friends who lives in the area.  After I introduced myself she rang him up to let him know I was in the area.  Unfortunately our ride ended up leaving before he got there so we were thwarted on meeting in person once again.  Such is life.

Sunday we all went out for breakfast in Walkerton before I headed out to see my Grandma Ruth.  We had a nice visit, then I headed home as I was having dinner at my other friend Tessa's place that night, which was a good time, I met a friend of hers and we've been chatting since.  Tess also packed me leftovers for lunch the next day and it was kick ass.  So all told, I didn't get home until 8:30 sunday night, just in time to have to work Monday.

Okay, phew.  Done.  On to other topics now....

Okay, now THIS pisses me off...

Via Matthew Good's Facebook page

Oh Noes!! A Couple and their CHILD!!  AVERT YOUR EYES, SINNERS!!

Mr. Good's caption on the photo:

Harps grocery store in Arkansas put a "family shield" over the recent cover of US Weekly because, well, little kids might have to look at two gay men and their child. And you know what that leads to - dancing, drugs, and teen pregnancy. Oh, and being gay.

Are you friggin' kidding me, Harps of Arkansas? 

I wish our grocery store would put a Family Shield over Kim Kardawhoserface or the short broad with the big hair from Jersey Shore, because they sure as hell offend MY sensibilities and I don't want my young shoppers subjected to THAT.  However, I'm pretty okay with a picture of a couple with a baby.

Holy crap, people.

Teenaged Angst has paid off well..

I've been looking through my high school poetry books.  I tell ya, a lot of this stuff is pretty fucking terrible, and probably shouldn't be consumed by anybody.  But I have found one or two little gems that weren't entirely groan worthy, in my humble un-biased opinion.

D.P.S.

Truth, too much should
We choose to lie
Seize the day, too much should we ever die
Fire in your head, we let ourselves go
Denying real truth, Truths never show
In identity life exists
Life drives on
We concern ourselves 
Not only with death and birth
but love, hate, fire, earth and poison
Inspiration, driven to our souls
Inspired by life
But drive to philosophical 
ecstasy and metaphysical
Euphoria
by the film alone.

This one I kind of find interesting, just because the other day Ozmandias posted about our adult selves in relation to how 12-year-old selves would ourselves.  Not being the comic geek as a child that I sort of am now, I found the next poem an interesting bit of foreshadowing (I think this one was supposed to be lyrical, for a song, perhaps):

Comic Book Girl

Can you see me?  I'm in the back of the room.
I'm looking at you.  Yeah, you.
Can you hear me?
I'm singing an alternate reality to you.



I'm lost in an imaginary animated world
Visited by friends I made real as a little girl
Cartoon creations and perceptions are unfurled
I remain known to you as the Comic Book Girl

My fantasy becomes your reality
My dream is now your life
The truth is never pretty 
So I've built my life on lies


TV's fucked up images in my fractured psyche
Doesn't it sound like fun?
Immortality and a cartoon death
Don't you want to die one?


I'll drag you into my imaginary animated world
Into an acid-trip dementia you'll be hurled
As everything you believe in is unfurled
Under a spell cast by the Comic Book Girl


Hehehe, check this one out.. Oh the burgeoning adolescent sexual awakening!! Oh the grappling with the madonna/whore complex!!  LOLOLOL!

Harlot

When did this pleasure come from pain?
When it's so hot outside 
All it does is rain
Steam and sweat and tears
And happiness throughout the years
All too much can make you go insane
Maybe I can have you here tonight
I never would put up a fight
Yes and No and Maybe Not
What if this is all we've got
Even when I know the timing's right.

I think I may have been too hard on that one.. I kind of like it.  Meh.  These are the good ones of the bunch, if you can believe it.  From roughly 1995-1998 copyright Andrea Lyn Cole

Roughly the age when I would have written this drivel.  Kind of wish I had pics from my vaguely-goth phase. They call em emo's now, I think.

On 'Schrodinger's Rapist' and the Culture of Fear.

This is not going to be a fun-filled post, so if you're looking for something fun and fluffy today, well, there's some nice menu's that will direct you to some of my other posts.

I was talking to a friend of mine about the video I posted in my New Year's post about 'How to Be Alone'.  I'm sure many of you have seen this one, it was pretty popular this year.  Anyway, we were discussing the difficulties of being a male by yourself in public versus being female by yourself in public.. namely the difficulty of being perceived as the 'creepy would-be rapist' versus the difficulty of having to be on the lookout for the 'creepy would-be rapist'.

So it struck me funny that I would come across this article on Schrodinger's Rapist (aka'd as 'A Guy's Guide to Approaching Women without getting maced') via April's year end round-up at Ethecofem.  Well, I kind of found it through the year-end round up via April's critique of the original article, which I'll get to.  Anyway, it struck me funny, because it nicely explained my argument of the risk women run being in public alone.

Although I also recommend reading the article in full, I'll give you the gist of it.  Big Bang Theory fans will know this from season one, but anyway, the concept is based after the Schrodinger's Cat experiment.  Long story short, scientist puts cat in a box with a vial of poison that will break open at any given time.  While in the box, the cat can be considered both alive and dead, since we don't know which it is.  However once the box is open, it can only be one or the other.  Starling's article applies this to the perception of a stranger in a public place (or a party or anywhere really) as a way to explain to guys who, for the most part are probably well-intentioned and only interested in striking up conversation.  However, the article points out, we as women out alone in public do not know what your intentions are, and until they become clear, you can be considered Schrodingers Rapist - that is to say, you both are a potential non-rapist and a potential rapist. 

I'll point out here that the fallacy in this metaphor is that in Schrodingers original experiment, once the box is opened the cat is obviously alive or dead.  However, in this application, taking into consideration that most rape and assault is committed by someone close to the victim, our metaphorical box is only opened once the person in question has been exposed as a rapist.  As long as they haven't raped or assaulted anyone they're still metaphorically 'in the box'  which is pretty fucking depressing, for men and women alike.  No really, it is. 

Now, I don't believe that Starling's article was meant to imply that this is how all women think when they are out in public.  At least, I sure hope not, because I know I don't... well, all the time.   I think it's offered as more of an explanation as to why some women may not be comfortable or impressed with what may be a guy's totally innocent compliment or attempt at conversation.  And although you may be a nice guy with good intentions, we don't know that.   Simple as that.  As Starling states, some people's risk threshold are higher than others.. Me, I'm one of those girls with a low risk factor.  This is probably due to the fact that *knock wood* I haven't found myself violated after being in a high-risk situation.  Some women have experienced assault, and as such, they have a no-risk threshold. 

Now, one may counter this with 'Well, I don't know if a girl's had a traumatic past...' and I'd be inclined to agree, that no, it's not up to you to know if someone has had past trauma.  But it is up to you to read cues (as mentioned in Starling's article) and know when to back-off.  Because I agree, when you ignore the 'please leave me alone' cues and continue to press for attention, you cross that line from well-intentioned friendly dude to pain-in-the-ass-douchebag to potential threat.

The downside of this article, as April argues, is that it does tend to paint this picture that all men are potential rapists, when that is simply not the case.  Let's take into consideration the rather dire stat given that 1 in 60 men will have committed sexual assault in some form in their lifetime.  Pretty fucking depressing, isn't it?  If you have trouble wrapping your head around that statistic, keep in mind that this isn't limited to the stranger-in-a-dark-alley trope... this includes date rape, coercion, having sex with someone who has limited capacity to consent (so drugs, alchohol.. even 'Hey, my girlfriend is sleeping.. now's a good time') .. basically, any sexual activity without explicit consent.

Here's the good news:  That mean's that for every potential threat, there's roughly 59 well intentioned friendly dudes' out there.  Hooray for the good guys!! 

Here's more bad news:  Sometimes it's pretty fucking hard to tell the difference, until it's too late.  And if someone has been a victim of assault before, sure as shit, they're going to have their guard up in certain situations. 

Myself, as a girl who has walked home alone late at night many a time, walked through the brush with my headphones on, occasionally forgotten to lock my door at night, flirted with guys at bars, met people I had only talked to online and *gasp* even consumed alcohol in the presence of (only) the opposite sex, all without incident, well admittedly, my risk threshold is pretty high. But every so often my spidey sense gets a tingling and I know I've stepped into a potentially volatile situation.

I once chatted online for a period of time with a guy I had met on a dating site.  One day we were talking about meeting, and I mentioned that I would like to meet for coffee because I wasn't comfortable meeting someone for the first time in my own home.  Like, shit man, I have kids to think about.   This guy got his panties in a bunch which both pissed me off, and freaked me out.  It worried me, because it seemed like such a little thing to get so agitated over, and it pissed me off because it was like "Sorry man, your hurt feelings DO NOT trump my personal safety."  I made the decision then and there not to meet with the guy and it took a few more conversations consisting of how unfair I was being and how unreasonable and how I had led him on etc before I said enough I just stopped answering the phone.   Because in my mind, at that point, he became a threat to me, the threat having been communicated through a sheer lack of regard for my personal boundaries.

And this is where I think Starling is coming from... If you ignore the 'Please leave me alone' cues, you become 'that guy'.  The guy who thinks that his desire to interact trumps a stranger's desire to be left alone.  I will however, agree with April that its unrealistic to say never approach a woman unless she's for sure open to being approached.  Some of us would like to be approached.  I know I would, once in a while.  But if you approach a girl, and she's giving off the 'please go away' vibe, then take the hint.. or you become 'that guy'.  Because let's face it.. it's 'those guys' that fuck up dating and trying to meet people or trying at all to negotiate any type of friendly/professional/romantic relationship with the opposite sex.  They fuck it up for women, who have to be on their guard and they fuck it up for other men, because now women see well intentioned friendly dudes as potential threats.  Way to go, That Guy.

Has it come to this?

I hate this time of year. 

Way too many bad memories associated with it, and I find it one of the loneliest times of year.. the Christmas letdown, New Years Eve, which is a big fuck-off ball of wrist-slitting fun, hell right up until Valentines day.  In the past, I've been subject to fits of depression around this time of year, and rightly so, when you consider what some of my past New Years' have been like.   The last two years haven't been too bad, last year because around that time period I had met the most recent ex, and the year before that I was embroiled in a bit of drama which although mildly stressful, kept things interesting.  My dark moods tend to come with boredom and loneliness.

In an act of desperation/morbid curiosity/boredom/blind optimism I reopened my Plenty of Fish profile.  Jesus H. Christ.  What a sad place that is.  Honestly, I'm not sure how long I'll be able to leave it up.  First, it took all of a half an hour to discover-most-recent ex on there, and that was fairly traumatizing, and second, I also discovered a dude that I had been talking about a year and a bit ago who turned out to be a bit of a whackjob is lurking around too.. and POF's security settings don't allow you to block someone until they've messaged you.  LOVELY.

So many damaged, jaded people.  So many 'nice guys' (find out more about my issue with 'nice guys' here).  So many people with laundry lists of what specifically they are looking for in a woman.  One guy even referred to 'Attributes'.  Fellow co-workers will understand why this terminology makes me laugh.  Compare these brands and models.  Oi.  So many cheesy topless pics.  Seriously guys?  So much about what they want, and what they desire, and what they REQUIRE, but so little about who they are.

SO many people desperate to reach out and be a half of a whole.  There but for the grace of God go I and other such blather.  Oh, wait...

I give it a week.

In the meantime, a well-suited musical interlude (have I sunk to a brand new low?):

This is me and here's my song...

So just some updates in general:

Wrangled me up a guest for my staff xmas party.  So that's fun, looking forward to it.

I'm quite excited about some changes in my workplace duties that have been taking place.  Normally to protect the innocent I try not to blog too much about work, and when I do, I like to keep it as vague and anonymous as possible,  but from past posts it can usually be assumed that I A) work for an internet company and B) I was in the Customer Service end of it.  Recent changes have my duties focusing less on customer service and more on web content and marketing via social networking, plus some SEOing which i find funny, because in some of my other duties, I've grown to have a vague contempt for SEO guys, mainly due to their tendency to play around with web-sites.  If I had the time and motivation to explain the one area of my job, my contempt would be easier to understand.  However in the name of again, keeping things rather anonymous, and reducing confusion I'll just say SEO guys make my life difficult so it's funny that in other aspects, I'm kind of becoming one, and leave it at that.


At any rate, the changes in my job description have been interesting in a good way, since I'm finding I'm actually excited about work, this past week, and feeling my potential to be a greater contributor overall.  Although for the most part I generally like my workplace and get along with my co-workers, customer service can be a soul-sucking exercise in frustration and futility that leaves me at the end of the day weeping for the state of humanity and the average's person's complete unwillingness and/or inability to click, scroll, read or otherwise do ANYTHING that would help them figure out things for themselves.  So some days I'm less than enthusiastic about making the 10 minute commute.  So to be excited and looking forward to new tasks and projects is a good thing, indeed.


Not started my Christmas shopping yet.  No big surprises there.

Spent some quality time with the guitar tonight, as there's a coffee house I plan on attending tomorrow night with the girls.  My parents have asked me to take some pictures for their magazine, [pimp]The Tay Township Report [/pimp], as my dad will be working and mom is entertaining.

This particular song has been eluding me for months, despite a relatively simple chord structure.  It's the odd syncopated rhythm that threw me off, and the face that as a relatively unknown performer, except perhaps among the alt-country crowds, NQ Arbuckle is kind of difficult to find tabs for online.

Yeah.. took me three tries to record this, and I still screwed up near the end.  Such is life. Just glad I have it down now.

A picture of Matt Good showed up in my Facebook feed, and I was struck again by the whole 'ugly-hot' phenomenon that guys, especially in the field of rock stars, are able to pull off.  There's a distinct subset of men that while nowhere near what could be called conventionally handsome, are able to make suck in my breathe and momentarily forget what I am doing.   Some less enlightened folks may chalk it up to money+power=sexy, but I think it's more attitude that plays into it, along with the whole creative mystique.  I don't see it as often in sports figures or politicians, but then again, I'm less inclined to pay attention to these types as I am musicians, artists, writers, etc.

Oh, Hai, Matt Good.  You want me come away with you?  mmkay.

I'm thinking I may start a theme day, something like 'Reverse Objectification Friday's' so I can just arbitrarily post pictures of dudes that provoke thoughts in my head of the type that would at best, make old lady's blush and at worse, make baby Jesus cry.

Because hell, who doesn't love a good theme day?