Category Archives: Posts that will get me hate mail

Two uncomfortable truths: New Merida looks a little whorey. Fewer people care about this than you would think.

Ugh. 

I sort of already hate myself from weighing in on this but people keep asking me to tweet about it and forward their petitions, and I really thought it would quiet down by now but it hasn’t, so I’m going to give my big, fat, stupid, irrelevant and probably wrong opinion on the changes Disney made from the original I-might-trust-her-to-babysit-my-kid-when-she’s-a-little-older Merida to get-the-fuck-away-from-my-husband Merida.

There are all sorts of calls to action to get Disney to admit that the new Merida looks a bit skanky and they’ve met with some success and that’s awesome.  Go team.  I hope you succeed.  But (in my opinion – stop yelling at me) the majority of people do not give a shit.  Mostly because we’re busy personally teaching our kids what strong women look like instead of letting Disney do it for us.  And in a way, Disney did us a favor here.  Did you have a talk with your kid about the new Merida? Because if you didn’t you missed a good opportunity to see where your kid stands on this, and to talk to them about over-sexualization.

I showed the new Merida to my eight-year-old and she assumed that it was Merida’s evil twin.  Which actually would make an awesome story, and personally I plan to tell stray children I see buying backpacks with the new Merida on them that the original Merida was eaten by the new Evil Merida because she was so hungry.  And they will probably believe it because seriously, look at her waist…the girl needs a damn sandwich.

Anyway, my incredibly dumb and probably ill-informed point is that it’s really uncomfortable to see a strong, child-like character get tarted up and flash bedroom eyes at you, but it’s equally sucky to rely on a giant corporation to teach your kids what strong women look like.  Strong women look like Amelia Earhart, Rosie the Riveter, Asmaa Mahfouz, or Elizabeth Smart. Or Wonder Woman, or Sally Ride or Sojourner Truth, or Amy Poehler, or Ada Lovelace, or Anne Frank.  Or your grandmother.

Or you.

I support and admire the men and women who speak out in the cause of feminism, but let’s not lose sight of the fact that there are so many amazing women who may never end up on a lunch box (Wonder Woman and Word Girl excluded) but who can make a great difference in the life and perceptions of our sons and daughters.

Okay.  Your turn.  Who’s your favorite female hero?

PS.  There aren’t any right or wrong answers here.  It’s totally okay to like pretty dresses and sexy princesses.  It’s totally okay not to.  No judgment.  Probably.

We're all going to Hell, but at least we'll be together.

This weekend I went to this flea market and I bought a cloak that I thought would be perfect for role-playing Lord of the Rings/Game of Thrones.  Then I found a tag sewn inside and realized that it probably belonged to the Pope.  I can only assume that he decided he needed to unload some of his vestments to pay for retirement.  Regardless, I think this means that I’m the new Pope.  Or that I’m running for Pope.  Something like that.

There are stains all around the hip line, which I hope is wine. Probably it was just sprinkler water and the Pope was like “Ah well, it’s only water” and then Jesus turned it into wine and the Pope was like “JESUS. THAT STOPPED BEING FUNNY THE 100th TIME YOU DID IT” and Jesus was like “Just wait.  It’ll come back around again.”

Technically it looks like a RenFest costume…until you turn around:

Yes, it's a cross, but in my defense I thought it was a giant "t" for "The Game of Thrones." Or "Mr. T." One of those.

Regardless, I think that I’m now the official Pope until the new one gets elected and I’m pretty sure that I get paid in hats, which is great because I totally have a face for hats.  Plus (unlike the last Pope) I won’t just join twitter and immediately get distracted and stop working, because I’m already good at not working but still pretending to work.  Also, I’d get to ride in the Pope-mobile, which is like a convertible that has a see-through top so your hair doesn’t get fucked up and you still get a tan.  Which is pretty smart and probably my favorite thing the Pope has ever invented.  Plus, if I run for Pope lots of religious people will be praying a ton.  Mostly about me not needing to be elected Pope.  And possibly some just praying for my soul.  So I just raised prayer rates and I DON’T EVEN HAVE A HAT YET.  That’s how awesome I am at being Pope.  I’m not even trying and already Jesus is probably super inundated with work.  Which he loves.   Because he’s not on twitter.

PS.  I need some slogans for my posters.  Because I’m pretty sure you run for Pope the same way you run for student council and that’s what I would have done if I wasn’t so high shy.  I’m thinking something like “Jenny for Pope.  She’s got issues but the last Pope was in the Hitler Youth so maybe stop judging her, asshole.”  Or something with ninjas.  People love ninjas.

Xanax makes me a better mom. Because it's Xanax. Now fuck off.

As of this afternoon, 67 people have sent me this article: “Xanax Helps Me to be a Better Mom.  Half of them are pissed off at the article and want me to rant about it, and the other half are sending it to me because they want me to consider switching to the non-drug alternative mentioned in the article, which is apparently five minutes in the laundry room using the delicates setting on the dryer.  That’s not a masturbation joke, y’all.  That’s apparently what some people do instead of Xanax.  AND THAT’S FINE.

If you’re sad, do something to make yourself happy.  If you’re sick, do something to make yourself healthy.  If you have a life-threatening medical disorder then you see a doctor and sometimes you get prescribed medication to make you whole again.  Like xanax.  Or anti-depressants.  Or chemotherapy.  Whatever it takes to keep you breathing, y’all.

In short?  What-the-fuck-ever.  If spin cycles work for you then put a lock on the laundry room door and go to town.  If exercise, yoga and a sunlamp are all you need to be whole again then do that.  If you need multiple prescription drugs and behavioral therapy (and to hide under tables occasionally) then you might be me.  And that’s okay.

In fact, it’s fucking awesome.

I swear this isn’t directed at anyone. It’s totally okay to not like my cat pictures. I salute you, cat pic haters.

PS. This is not directed at anyone who doesn’t like my cat pictures.  This is America.  You are totally allowed to hate cat pictures.  And to hate cats.  And to stab them with fish forks.

PPS.  You can’t really stab them with fish forks.  That was a test to see how you’d react.  You failed.

PPPS.  My sense of humor is broken this week.  It’s okay to hate this post.  It’s not even a real post.  Also, I apologize for not writing a weekly wrap-up.  Shit’s fucked up this week.

PPPPS.  This last paragraph has nothing to do with cat pictures, but it’s a Doctor Who quote that I needed to hear again.  Maybe you do too:  “The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things… The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things, and make them unimportant.”  Touché, Doctor.

It’s probably not racist. Or possibly it’s racist to assume it might be racist. I’m sort of fucked either way.

Last week I wrote that I had something to share that I thought was funny, but that I wasn’t certain if I could write about it because I wasn’t sure if it was racist or not, and so I asked a black friend and she said it was fine, but then I thought I needed to ask some more black friends but two of them didn’t respond to me and then I got bored.  Then my original friend who was all “It’s not racist.  White people are allowed to like Snoop Dogg too” saw that I’d totally wimped out of writing the post in the first place and so she just left the comment: “Chicken“.  And she was right.  So instead I wrote into “Yo, Is This Racist?” to ask that guy his opinon since he’s an expert but he’s not responding to me.  Probably because he’s racist.  That was a joke.  More likely it’s in his spam folder.  Maybe both.  Regardless, I felt very stupid and somewhat cowardly about not publishing the post, and so I thought I’d post it now because technically it’s like I’m encouraging the necessary and on-going conversation about race-issues.  Also, this lead-up is way too long and makes this whole post a bit anti-climatic.  I apologize for that and also for possibly being accidentally racist.  I assure you that my next post will be back to non-offensive topics like dog rape and making fun of ugly babies.  Turn away now if you are only here for ugly babies.

Someone sent me a link to gizoogle, which is much like if my friend Snoop Dogg was reinterpreting the internet.  Also, can you call someone your “friend” if you once spent a lot of time hanging out with his wax sculpture?  I say “yes”.  This is my wiki-page reinterpreted by gizoogle.  It is awesome.

“Right back up in your motherfucking ass” is my new auto-signature.

Three-way

Conversation I had with Victor on the way home:

me:  Yeah.  Because there’s nothing more helpful than God in a three-way.

Victor:  WHAT?

me:  That church sign we just drove past.  It encouraged people to pull God in on a three-way when they’re in trouble.

Victor:  I’m almost positive it didn’t say that.

me:   Well, it implied it.  It said: “WHEN TROUBLE CALLS, CALL ON GOD.”  And you can’t call God while you’re still on the phone with trouble…unless you call him on a three-way.  Or unless you’re at work and you schedule a conference call.  Or if use Skype or something.

Victor:  I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to take those signs quite that literally.

me: Of course not.  Because God isn’t in the phone book.  The three-way is implied.  Or…hypothetical.  They should have just written “Have an imaginary three-way with God.”

Victor:  No one should ever write that.

me: Oh, because people get upset if you say “imaginary” and “God” in the same sentence?  So instead you’d have to say “Have faith in three-ways with God.”

Victor:  No.  Because you’re not supposed to say “three-ways” and “God” in the same sentence.  We’re going to hell just for having this conversation.

me:  If God wasn’t unlisted I’d call Him and explain that I’m referring to conference calls.

Victor:  I’m sure He’s eavesdropping.  You’re probably fine.

me:  “Have faith that God is okay with you talking about three-ways.”  That’s what my church sign would say.

Victor:  I’d probably go to that church.

me:  Who wouldn’t?

And now I want ribs.

me:  I bet the little mermaid got crazy fat after she got married.

Victor:  Why?

me:  Because all she could eat when she was a mermaid was raw kelp and there’s practically no calories in kelp.

Victor:  She lived in the ocean.  She ate fish.

me: SHE WAS FRIENDS WITH FISH.  She talked to every living thing there was.  Even seagulls.  She couldn’t even eat seagulls.  I bet she was fucking starving.  Have you seen her waist?  That’s not normal.  It looks like she’s had ribs removed.

Victor:  Huh.

me: And then she suddenly becomes human and stops swimming – so she’s not getting any cardio – and then she discovers cheese.  And bacon.  And cheesy bacon.  OMG, I want cheesy bacon.

Victor: You’ve thought about this way too much.

me:  If I was the little mermaid I’d get so fat.

**********

In unrelated news, it’s time for the weekly wrap up.

What you missed in my shop (tentatively called “Eight pounds of uncut cocaine” so that your credit card bill will be more interesting.):

What you missed on the internets:

This week on shit-I-didn’t-come-up-with-but-wish-I-did-because-it’s-kind-of-awesome:

This week’s round-up sponsored by The Dumb White Husband’s Guide to Babies.   Children are amazing and their limitless capacity for love is matched only by their ability to make you feel like an idiot. But you’re not alone.  Dumb White Husband vs. Babies tackles the subjects that other baby books ignore.