Monthly Archives: April 2009

Tabula Rasa

I’m on my brothers computer, because mine has been reduced to an inanimate hulk of plastic, metal, and chips. I’m not quite sure what exactly happened, as my computer skillz are limited to pushing the ‘on’ button and accessing the program I want. The behind the scenes on-goings are completely beyond my comprehensive abilities, but I’ve been told it has something to do with viruses and my C drive. Oh, and my rams might be messed up. And my hard drive (uhh whaa?) is shot to hell. Basically, I have to rebuild my computer from the inside out (the out would be the front jacks, which are … oh forget it. Suffice to say ‘not working’). 

And the worst part? The absolute WORST part?!? 

My files are gone. 

ALL. my files. 

my books. my music. my pictures. all my old essays. 

This is what I get for praying for a ‘fresh start.’

Even though it’s sort of my fault. My brothers have been telling me to back my files up for oh, about a year (since my last wipe out). And I did… or I thought I did… or wait, no, I did, but then I  

OMG. MY POETRY!!! OH SHIT. OH GOD. ARRGHHH!!!!

why is this hitting me in stages?!? I’m out before I remember anything else =(

*crying*

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Filed under Personal

Does my butt look big in this?

Whether you’ve heard of, asked, or – God help you – replied to this question, everyone’s familiar with it. And it’s univeraly known that a ‘yes’ will not be met well.

So what do you do if you notice your boo packing on the poundage? How on earth do you get her to a) notice and, more importantly, b) actually do something about it? As in getting the message – don’t think for a second I’d want the damn milk if it’s coming from a fat ass cow – across in a way that won’t guarantee the immediate termination of your relationship – and thus milk privileges. What a predicament! 

But don’t get your tighty whities in a knot just yet, because Askmen, God bless their anorexic-lovin’ hearts, who are constantly and dedicatedly striving to better your ball-scratching ways, have foreseen such a dilemma and come to the rescue with their  Top 10: Subtle Ways To Tell Her She’s Getting Fat. (I kid you not)

No.10 – Buy her clothes that are too small

No.9 – Sign her up for yoga under the pretence of “stress relief” 

No.8 – Set out on your own weight loss plan

No.7 – Serve her unsatisfactory portions 

No.6 – Improve your own diet

No.5 – Playfully grab her love handles

No.4 – Ask her to wear an old dress

No.3 – Sabotage her chair

No.2 – Leave “now” and “then” photos lying around. 

No.1 – Take her to places where she has to wear a swimsuit.

Does anyone else see a problem with this? Because while I may have certain feminist leanings, I’m not nit-picky with it (case in point: saying ‘you guys’ or ‘(occupation)man’ does not get my woman’s lib panties in a knot) mainly because I have bigger fish to fry. And besides, women who are hung up on it sort of scare me. All that ranting and obsessing about the inequalities and sexification (b.k.a. sexual objectification) of women, why not just shut up and – here’s a thought! – do something about it! 

But this? This makes me want to hurl. Or find Thomas Foley, author of this particular literary gem, and rid the world of his misogynistic, neanderthalic ass. 

Ahhhh. Instant satisfaction.

If you really want to read in more detail, I’ve included the link. Be warned: if possible the paragraphs and explanations underneath surpass the headings in complete and utter idiocy. Almost all include deception and/or manipulation and attempts at shaming her into losing weight. And the pictures? En-freaking-joy.

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Filed under Head-Bangers, Rant