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Thursday, January 30, 2003
I like kitties. And self-pleasure! Just not both at the same time. I don't like to incorporate fur down there in any way.
I like kitties, and I keep trying to lure the strays into our apartment, but Nicole keeps yelling at me not to do it.
I think I've made it clear in the past that I have no time for anti-abortionists, especially when they try to call themselves "Feminists for Life." Listen: I am no expert on theory, but even I can recognize that you CANNOT BE A FEMINIST IF YOU DO NOT SUPPORT A WOMAN'S RIGHT TO CONTROL HER OWN BODY. I know you want to still call yourself a feminist, but it's not happening. It's counter-intuitive. You are fucked up. You are anti-women's rights, with a soft spot for feminist politics. That's it. Accept it, move on, stop ruining feminism for others. Accept it, move on, stop ruining feminism for others.
I saw two flyers advocating this kind of screwy logic, claiming that abortion rights activists promised "a world where each child would be wanted." And since child abuse has gone up, apparently the activists lied. Bad activists! Bad! No reproductive rights for you! "Question Abortion" my ASS.
I want to make my own flyers, ones that say "YAY ABORTION! I support a women's right to choose, because I AM A BABY KILLER. I hate fetuses! DIE, BABIES, DIE!" Oh, my god, but it would just be lost on everyone. They'd think I was totally serious.
I watch American Idol not just because I am a sucker for singing and dancing, but because it gives me all the opportunity I could ever need to make fun of others, especially delusional ones. It just feeds my hate of others, especially when they think they can sing but cannot, for the love of Dog, sing a fucking note. Simon Cowell is my hero.
Tuesday, January 28, 2003
Nic: "I was watching the State of the Union address, but I had it on mute."
Me: "That's the only way to watch it."
Nic: "Cut through the bullshit."
I never wonder "Self, what was the last thing you posted?" Instead, it's always, "Self, what was your last raging complaint?"
I think I'm okay today. Probably because I watched the appendices of the FOTR DVD instead of doing homework. A girl can slip up once in a while, you know. I have to take a break from deformed bones and the patriarchy and foramen and didactism in children's literature. It was time to hear Christopher Lee talk about the "goddamned" steps up to Saruman's throne.
In health and disease on Monday, our instructor brought us doughnuts, a variety of glazed and filled and sprinkled pastries, for two reasons. One, he won the football pool among the professors. Two, they were to make up for the fact that at eight-thirty in the morning, we had to look at pictures of dead babies without skull caps and with malformed heads, hence their deadness.
I love this shit. I'm not even being sarcastic.
Sunday, January 26, 2003
What's up, hookers? Here's what's up with me:
- I got a huge package from BrynMawrgaret the other day, mostly filled with a giant stuffed turtle she made me (I named him Lewis!), horseradish (yum), Canadian coin money (from, let me tell you, Canada) and some pretty things, pretty things.
- Tomorrow I am going to the post office at the crack of dawn and priority-mailing my order for Pearl Jam tickets, for the show down here in April, and if I think about the outcome of buying said tickets -- seeing Pearl Jam -- I might die. I might die right in front of you.
- I bought A River Runs Through It on DVD. The format means nothing to me; it's the movie that's everything. I just cry and cry and cry, la di la di la. I watched a little bit today, to get a taste, to allow myself a taste, before I write my paper. Just a hint of the ache the movie brings. Jesus hell.
- It turns out that amongst the three of us at dinner, me and Nic and Nic's mother, that we only know of two feminist men, so to speak, Travis Kroh and Eddie Vedder. Two men, three women: it'll work out, somehow. I just won't have time to fight sexism in a future marriage, so I would like to start out without any of that bullshit.