Thursday, January 24, 2008

Dad and I discuss the economy.

PR: Father who bore me, How much $ do you think I'll get from the "stimulus package"?

Dad: daughter who weeed on me at birth: nothing since you will use it to pay any taxes you probably owe. last year your dad had to pay $2800.00 for you. love your dad

PR: So you are saying you are going to take my check?! But you can't stimulate the economy with spending like I can! I'll wee on you again!!!

Dad: judging by your past visa bills which i pay i don't believe the economy will need any more stimulation. show me the money! dad

How Do We Save Our Boys From The School System's Feminist Agenda?

You have castrated my most important mind!

In light of the eye-opening New York Post column written by National Organization of Men head Marty Nemko about the feminization of young school boys (did others know that NOM existed? Because, uh, I was under the impression that, like, our entire government was just a big fat NOM) I would like to issue an emergency change of curriculum, to be enacted immediately in all public schools across the nation. Also private schools choosing to opt out of this curriculum change shall be required to hang a Welcome To The Dollhouse banner over their front entry doors.

To combat the "non-competitive learning", "tales of relationships and heroines", and the female teacher majority that Nemko outlines as the cause of flailing boys today, all schools from this day forth shall adhere to a program based on THERE WILL BE BLOOD that will nurture, I mean, erect strongly the competition in each boy's innate malehood.

FIRST, all history lessons shall revolve around capitalist men with moustaches.

SECOND, each day every boy shall get a milkshake, then they shall attempt to drink other boy's milkshakes.

THIRD, Sexual Education shall be taught to the sound of high-pitched existential ringing.

FOURTH, each Friday boys shall go to the brothel for women and whiskey.

FIFTH, Daniel Day Lewis shall be cloned, and brought into schools to teach every course.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Scrabulous On The Brink of Defeat; Panic, Chaos, Animalistic Behavior Ensues

Lauren B: Um, "Lordlike" is the best word I've ever seen played in scrabbz, eeeeeeever.

Andrew C: I do love the search feature.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

27 Messes (on my face).

As she did with The Holiday, my Grandma psyched me out to see 27 Dresses by raving about the surprise ending. Though I should have known better based on the evidence, I thought that meant the movie would go one of the following directions:

1.) James Marsden, who plays the New York Times, er, excuse me Journal's wedding writer would be gaygaygaygaygaygay as no straight man's nostrils flare with joy upon hearing wedding vows, and the actor himself was recently quoted in Glamour saying his favorite thing to do with a woman was to "brush her lovely hair" (or something).

2.) Katherine Heigl, the always-a-bridesmaid-never-a-bride character would realize that marriage is the opiate of the masses and found a matriarchal society on an island off the coast of Florida where she would age humorously and gracefully along with her two best hos.

or 3.) something subtler, but still mildly subversive-- like Heigl's sister (played by the po' man's version of Cameron Diaz) would end up marrying Heigl's love interest and getting a divorce soon after upon realizing he was all pomp and no substance, prompting both of them to question their fantasies of married life....

But, uh, no.

My Grandma is obvs the patriarchy incarnate, but god dammit the concern that woman instilled in me towards the state of my lipstick is probably the only reason I get laid.

If Emily Post were your Jewish grandmother, could you really blame her for simply wanting her three Jewess granddaughters to have ruby red lips trained to smile at men in kippot?

Heigl plays a responsible workaholic female who "can't say 'no'" to anyone, and thus ends up doing everything for all of her friends' weddings. As if the woman-who-can't-say-no wasn't enough of a cliche, who's to help her out with this? Her romantic interest of course! On their first date, James Marsden is all like, "Girl, I'm going to teach you how to say 'No'!" and Heigl, who is apparently too dumb to say "no" to his stupid date idea is all like, "Okay! Whateves!" Marsden proceeds to demonstrate his romantic comedy-grade creativity with charming 'no' prompts like "Try saying 'no'......when I ask for a bite of your sandwich!...when I say you like sardines!....when I ask to look in your purse!" They should have just cut the crap and gone straight to where this was heading: "Try to say 'no' to my big fat cock", but of course in this genre sexual happiness is unattainable unless the big fat cock comes with a big fat diamond cock ring on it. Comedy gold.

The surprise ending to which Gaga was referring: Katherine Heigl walks down the aisle, teary-eyed, to meet James Marsden's flared-nostril skeletor face. He takes her hands at the altar and says meaningfully: Is this everything you dreamed of?

"No", she replies.

(shock and awe, shock and awe, shock and awe!)

Three seconds later she adds: "It's better."*

*Note to self: If I succumb to the patriarchy and get married one day, I must remember this trickery! A two-step response: first negate, then overreach. What cleverness!

Heigl, my squidzz, what happened to your newfound post-Knocked Up attitude?!

It paints the women as shrews, as humorless and uptight, and it paints the men as lovable, goofy, fun-loving guys. It exaggerated the characters, and I had a hard time with it, on some days. I’m playing such a bitch; why is she being such a killjoy? Why is this how you’re portraying women?

Were you afraid if you didn't take this role you would never work again or something? Please give me a reason! Otherwise I will be forced to cast you as the leading female in my newest Judd Apaturd feature "The Accidental Blowjob", the role of Girl From the Dirty Magazine Who Gets Splooged Upon.

Monday, January 14, 2008

Neo Nazi, I Forgive Thee For You Move These Weary Jewess Feet To Dance.

I discovered tonight at the gym that somehow I Saw The Sign and Don't Turn Around exist on my iPod. One theory is that much like Lohan in I Know Who Killed Me I have a stigmatic twin and we've both evolved to the supernatural point where our iPods are also stigmatically connected. LOLren (my twin) obviously lives in East Germany, has a best friend/lover named Theo with whom she dances at the discotheque every night from Wednesday through Sunday, and on most nights when she's drunk enough to forget she doesn't love him, she takes him home to her dull flat to have rough, inebriated sex to the tunes of her favorite Ace of Base album, The Sign (the discotheque may also explain why my hamstrings are always unusually fatigued). Or, theory numero deux: I download songs that I secretly love, but am shamed to admit I love when I'm wasted, and then later forget about them. I'm leaning towards the latter explanation, as I'm pretty sure that all I have in common with Lindsey Lohan, even as a fictional movie character, are some shoulder freckles and a deep unquenchable thirst for love and attention.

ACE OF BASE-- All That She Wants.

Linn Berrgen, lead singer = Hillary Clinton's STIGMATIC TWIN??
The face is the same, but the lip dubbing seems worse.

"She leads a lonely life.....", yet one so danceable!

In 1994, by the time my Bat Mitzvah rolled around, a.k.a. BEST NIGHT OF MY LIFE, Ace of Base had reached Minnesota radio and was a popular selection at school dances, sleepovers, and other important social events. Unfortunately a week before my becoming-an-Adult-Jewess party, I learned that Ulf, the hot Aryan male component of the band, had been a neo-Nazi. When the DJ dared to play Don't Turn Around, I stormed up to the booth, not only making him change the song, but also grabbing the mike to explain to my Jewish relatives how I was taking a stand against Nazism. You see, being a stubborn betch is nothing new to me.

Ulf, bane of my Jewish adolescence.

But hell, Ulf's apology was better than the Pope's, and as a result of my Ace of Base boycott I missed out on years of first-class pop.

Meaning, I only hurt myself.

Ulf's apology:

I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes
I saw the sign
Life is demanding without understanding
I saw the sign and it opened up my eyes
I saw the sign
No one’s gonna drag you up
To get into the light where you belong

Wednesday, January 9, 2008

Most People In This Country Are Probably Racist and Misogynist, But It's Only Okay to Be Misogynist.

I've been meaning to write about Gloria's op-ed on Hillary's gender quagmire in the Times since, like, the second I finished reading it yesterday, but you know, life interferes with virtual presence sometimes (as my Second Life sex partner will tell you), and so does a horrible betch CEO screaming at you over the phone at work.*

* Please do not infer that I am calling her a betch simply because she is a powerful CEO femaspecimen. She was simply a betch, and powerful. Unrelated. Or if related, it is because the patriarchy has forced her to be so. I mean, duhz, this is a feminist blogz, which incidentally shall some day be turned into a book if I can make enough money to buy the title I Blame Judd Apatow from Liz.*

Gloria's piece was so absolutely true and well-written I creamed my brain. I've already gone on record supporting Obama, primarily because I think we need a parvenu in the White House, but Steinem's column is making me reconsider. What it comes down to ultimately is not a huge difference in ideological issues--Steinem points out Clinton's and Obama's voting records are almost identical (except for the war, Hillary voted for it which was an LOLbad move, and though Barack wasn't in the Senate at the time he says he would have voted against it, which is obviously easier to say in retrospect than to do in reality.) Rather as of 11:23am, January 8th (the time of my second Steinem read-thru) I have positioned it as a choice between using my vote to symbolically battle misogyny or symbolically battle the insider political system. It's like if my wildest dreams came true and I could send one of the following two people to live with rabid wolves in Uzbekistan for four years--- which representation do I choose to abolish?! Misaligned Misogyny or Insidious Insiderism?

Which evil deserves rabies via wolf?

Steinem correctly draws attention to the fact that Barack is allowed to use his outsider status to his advantage-- he gets props for referencing the civil rights movement, or the lessons he learned from his Kenyan father, but Clinton is damned if she do', damned if she don't when it comes to drawing attention to her sex. If she says something critical about her opponents then she's a heartless man-eating betch, if she breaks down, lawd forbid, and slightly tears up, then she's a weak female unfit for leadership. Whatever she does, she is ridiculed and hated-- NOT as some say because of her personality, but always because of how she is using or not using her femininity. Seriously, do a Nexis search of "Hillary Clinton" and "Election"-- over the past year the media has churned out thousands of articles on her so-called "unelectabilty" that are solely based on her gender performance and are impossibly contradictory. Of course, there are articles on Obama's electabilty, and the "Is He Black Enough?" question, but those pieces are almost always long, thought essays, examining race in America, while Hillary's are usually short little snippets in mainstream news outlets quoting Tommy, a hunter in North Dakota saying something like, "I don't think anything that bleeds once a month should be running this country." They're not thought-provoking, or analytical of gender issues in our society, rather they're sad excuses for blatantly misogynist fear-mongering.

I think it comes down to the fact that it's okay, even PC, to be misogynist in this country. I'm not saying that misogynism is more rampant than racism, just that it's more widely acceptable. Chris Matthews can pinch Hillary's cheek, demeaning her like she's a little girl, but if he dared to demean Obama in a similar manner using the connotations and history of his skin color-- let's say, call him "boy" during an interview-- Matthews would be massacred. Hillary's frown lines or Botox rumors can make headline news, but if Obama came back tanned from a beach vacation and the media wrote about his darkened skin color, there would be an uproar. I mean it just wouldn't happen. Tommy from North Dakota is probably racist too, but the media won't publish him saying absurd things about black people. But women? No prob! Hillsogyny is practically a mainstream cultural joke, printed on tee-shirts:

Can you imagine a shirt with an image of Obama and a racial insult? Um no.

What especially resonated with me was Steinem's sad note that younger women especially seem to deny the presence of the "sexual caste system." We're more educated than ever before, but can't see the patriarchy even if Judd Apatow date rapes our eyes with it. Case in point (thanks to Marmsies): Moe on Jezebel, who is both smart, and mostly wrong about everything.

Unrelated (kind of)-- I need your help for an article! Email me if you can be involved!
I'm looking for some help for a story I'm working on about abortion and telling/or not telling future suitors. In my personal experience I've found that though my abortion was about as existentially angsty as knee surgery ( i.e. not at all), that most men I've told have reacted like I just confessed I fought on the front lines in 'Nam and have 18 bullets lodged in my body ( like I deserve a purple heart for bravery). I'm curious to do a larger piece on this situation-- focusing on men's reactions to abortion or the ways women talk about or don't talk about past abortions in new relationships. This is where you* come in-- I'm looking for a few good women and men who have been in this situation before and who are willing to go on the record talking about it. (Of course names can be changed if necessary).

* If "you" are one of those gross men from that barf-inducing L.A. Times men-owning-abortion article, "you" are excluded.

Tuesday, January 8, 2008

On Cake.

Marmsies: Oh Lauren, you are so dear to me. Let’s get a cake and give it a name and make it our child.

PR: Oh don't tempt me, for I am off work so I just might go get some cake, then swing by Target and get some little cake clothes, then go to Barnes & Noble and purchase "Your Little Cake's First Book". don't tempt me.

Marmsies: But then I’d eat it in the middle of the night and you’d take me to court and get all my stuff, and I’d have to move into a bachelor condo across town, where I’d listen to Steely Dan constantly and ash on the floor and cry. What an unpleasant way to start the new year!

PR: So basically if we made a cake baby, our lives would mirror the plot of Juno where you'd be Jason Bateman and I, Jennifer Garner? And you'd get a bachelor pad in downtown Rochester, Mnzz, and hit on 18-year-olds? So that's what that movie was about-- carrying a cake baby to term and the ramifications on an already unhealthy marriage!

Marmsies: I didn’t say our cake marriage was unhealthy, I just said I would probably eat the cake baby when I was drunk.

PR: I think when you look up "Unhealthy" in the dictionary, there is a picture of you, drunk, eating our cake baby.

Marmsies: When did you take that picture?????!!!!!!!

PR: at the hospital. i brought a camera to take pictures of the birth for our album, but then i caught you in the corner eating the cake baby. you said you were "washing it." oh the horror! Heart of Darkness redux with cake babies!

Marmsies: I’m not well-educated enough to fully grasp that joke in its entirety but it sounds horrifying!

PR: jesus christ i was going to go to the gym, but now i think i'm going to jog to the cake store, buy massive amounts of cake for our abode, and jog back, then maybe eat a piece. Is that horrifying?

Marmsies: No, that is an idea so brilliant, I am going to invent a new kind of cake-related award so that I may present it to you when I get home. The Red Velvet Heart, mayhaps?

PR: Okay, I'm doing it! I'll email you later with tales from the blood red trenches!

Saturday, January 5, 2008

In every instance when an individual whose head he had observed while alive happened to die, he endeavoured to obtain permission to examine the brain, and frequently did so ; and he found, as a general fact, that, on removal of the skull, the brain, covered by the dura mater, presented a form corresponding to that which the personality had exhibited in life.-Elements of Phrenology, Dr. George Combe.

The bitter coldness a few days ago didn't allow for much activity besides cuddling, eating, and viewing, so Liz, Mere and I combined all three Wednesday afternoon. After a Moutarded meal that nearly ended me, we settled on the couch to revive the halcyon days of adolescence, our stronger years spent tearing through vicious Midwestern winters fueled only by the warmth of three packs of Brown Sugar PopTarts and the sexual tension played out among a pre-herpified Katie Holmes, a pre-tragic James Van Der Beek, and a pre-NoseJo Michelle Williams.

Might I also mention that at the height of our teenagedom, whilst our romantic notions of life and love were being carefully molded by the likes of Dawson's Creek (i.e. we were desiring of boyfriends who lived in the attic and only talked superficially about New Wave film-- not easy to come by in suburban Minnesota), we were innocent and unawares of the LOLpatriarchal notions Dawson Leary hide in his Giganta-head. That is, until we popped the Season 4 Dawson's Creek DVD in for a viewing the other day. Oh woe is our vagsies! How many indie rock retards might we have avoided? How many assholes might we have refuted? How many more lesbian relationships might we have had if only we could have seen Leery for what he really was back then?

I know phrenology went out of vogue with Britney Spear's third pregnancy, but hear me out as I guide you through this correlational guide between forehead size and patriarchal bullshit.

Exhibit A.) Dawson's forehead during the episode in which Jen, the bad-slutty-girl- turned-bad-slutty-single-Mom, discovers she has a heart condition when she goes in for a pregnancy test (because she is a slut) and fucking DIES in the hospital. Why oh why did she not listen to the therapist in Season 4 who tried to explain to her that her sluttitude was a cry for love and attention? Why did she not close her legs and open her heart? WHY?!!!!

FOREHEAD DAMAGE: Omg, stop Leerying at me with your forehead.

Exhibit B.) Dawson's forehead during the episode in which his One Wrue Wuv, Joey, loses her v-card to Dawson's best friend Pacey. Joey and Pacey sit by the fire and analyze their sexual experience. Joey starts crying because, duh, just duh. Pacey asks Joey what her favorite part of their sexcapade was and she replies, "I just knew that when you were above me, holding me, that you would protect me forever. I felt safe, and warm, like a complete person." Pacey's face shows a flash of confusion (I think he was angling for "your 8-inch monster" as her answer), but then he folds her up in his arms and says, "I'll always be here to protect you." While, yes, Dawson is not involved in this scene you can see how the patriarchal ramifications take shape in his hairline recession and thus, ever more bulging forehead.

PATRIARCHAL LOVE LESSON: Waaaah protect me, waaaah I am female, waaaaah.

FOREHEAD FORECAST: I will shield you from harm with my unyielding wenis.

Exhibit C.) Dawson's forehead creased with pain and angst upon learning that Joey, his One Wrue Wuv, lost her virginsies to Pacey on an effing boat. He pries the truth out of her, then makes her fucking APOLOGIZE for not saving her v-card for him (and we're supposed to be on his side!), and finally proceeds to go to this field to cry out his male impotency, because of course now he cannot love purely and innocently a taken woman. (Note: Dawson himself was not a virgin at this point, he had lost his big V to the bad girl slut many seasons ago.) Also this by far is the best picture to ever come into existence.

PATRIARCHAL LOVE LESSON: Men cannot love a wanton woman.

FOREHEAD FORECAST: Implosion! Implosion!