much ado about the pill

So, between McCain's stumbling, uh, um, der, I don't know anything about Viagara and birth control being covered by insurance comment and Bill Douchebag O'Reilly's recent Viagara helps with a condition, the pill helps with a choice comment, I feel the need to say a little something.

A. Women actually like to fuck. I know it's surprising, seeing as though sex should only belong to big, strong manly men. But most women enjoy getting off. Sure, there are asexual beings but for the most part, men and women fuck. And men and women enjoy fucking. Deal with it. My "choice" to lead a happy, healthy life involves sex, as it does for most people. I make a choice as to what I want to do for 8 hours every day for a paycheck. I make a choice as to where I want to live, what kind of people I choose to surround myself with. I make a choice as to who I want to have sex with. All things that contribute to that healthy, happy life we all should be able to lead.

B. The idea that the birth control pill is strictly used to prevent contraception is wildly inaccurate. I've been taking it since I was 14, thanks to bleeding for months at a time and then not bleeding for months at a time and during the ones when I was bleeding, wanting to rip my uterus out from the pain. I've been consistently on the pill ever since, even during the times when I'm not having any sex. If I decided tomorrow to never have sex again, I'd still keep taking the pill because: a. 3-day hardly noticeable periods are fucking awesome, b. it helps my skin, c. I could be sexually assaulted any ol' time and although I wouldn't be able to take the proper precautions to prevent STDs, I'd be relatively certain I at least wouldn't get knocked up.

C. Viagra helps with a medical condition. A medical condition that needs overcoming strictly for the purpose of having sex. Even if it's for procreation purposes, where are all these impotent men gonna stick it when no woman wants to have sex with them because they're afraid of getting pregnant or in pain from any number of gynelogical conditions of which the birth control pill helps to ease the symptoms. Not to mention, I thought the pill partly existed so that men wouldn't have to worry about that icky little pregnancy problem and could go bareback without a second thought? If we can't afford to pay an arm and a leg and decide when and if we want to get knocked up, a lot more men are gonna have to actually take responsibility and slap on a condom. Something tells me Mr. O'Reilly is of the "but it doesn't feel as good...I don't wanna!!" mentality when it comes to condoms.

I don't need to have sex in order to survive; neither does a man. So whether it's a medical condition if you can't get your cock hard or not, you don't actually need to go through life with it at full-mast every day. But since some men would like to be able to get it up with the assistance of a little blue pill and I'd like to not lose every bit of iron in my body every month, how about we just call it a day and the insurance companies give us an equal hand?

a witty title eludes me

A. I'm the lucky recipient of a morning headache for the 3rd morning in a row! *throws confetti* As someone who doesn't typically enjoy being around people unless she genuinely likes them and enjoys their presence, headaches suck extra hard for me because if I'm at work, I'm even more of an apparent bitch than I usually am. I know the fact that I can't seem to fall asleep to save my life is part of that and I know why I can't seem to fall asleep to save my life but I'm not quite sure yet how to nip that problem in the bud.

B. I saw a billboard this morning for a vodka brand that had on it just a bottle of their vodka and the line, "sex sells. But it has nothing to do with making great vodka." It made me smile. Kudos to you, vodka company I can't remember.

3. I'm psyched that after this season, I'll have one less thing to DVR since CSI without William Petersen is like...well, I don't know what but it's entirely pointless. If before he leaves, I don't get to watch him and Lady Heather engage in some adult activities involving some sort of leather and restraints and dirty words, I'ma have to write to CBS.

5. I'm super antsy to head back to New York next month. So far, the plan is to spend a couple nights at my aunt's place, now that she's left my uncle and has an apartment of her own. We've always been close but we talk much more often now that she isn't running all over upstate New York running his errands and doing charts and billing and all the other crap she did for his office. Other than that, the parentals and I are going to take a trip up to Harrisville and stay at the lake for a few days. I think it'll be great for my mom to get away after going through her recent health problems, I think it's always great for my dad to get away for a few days and not have to drive his usual 3 hours to and from work every day, and I'm looking forward to a little...solitude and self-reflection before my birthday this year. My brother, his girlfriend, and her daughter are also trying to get some time off to come too, which I think will be great. As much as I tend to not really be a fan of children, I hate that she gets to spend weekends with my parents and they get to see her regularly and I feel like I'm..."that's Andy's sister...Remember her? She's not around here very much."

I've always liked birthdays and getting older has never bothered me. Hell, I like having a year's worth of new lessons and knowledge to draw on. But after my last grandparent died this past Christmas, I've been feeling like turning 30 is a bit different than I thought it would be. I've never been much of a planner and I still don't ever want to think to myself, "okay, this is where I'll be in 3 years and this is where I'll be in 5 and in 10, I'm going to be doing this." But there are some things I'm unhappy with and some things I'd like to change. I've just got to figure out how to make those things happen.

Hopefully, I'll return to Chicago with a new...or at least, adjusted...outlook on some things and I'll be ready for my co-worker and I to jump our asses out of a plane 14,000 feet up in the air, free fall for nearly 60 seconds, and then coast safely to the ground to meet our non-deaths. Which will replace my 27th birthday spent at the gorgeous Pacific Ocean with my 30th birthday spent skydiving, as my best birthday ever!

Boredy McFucking Bored

I was all excited to try the new Blackberry flavor of Nutri-Grain cereal bars, which, along with string cheese, is usually my breakfast.

But I'm saddened at the sucktasticness of said new flavor. Thank whatever higher power may possibly exist that cheese is always a sure tasty thing.

In happier news, although I'm not big on spending a gazillion dollars on clothing and still wouldn't be even if my t&a would fit into most designer clothing, the new season of Project Runway starts tomorrow. I love watching people take next to nothing and turn it into something fantastically creative and gorgeous (usually gorgeous. Some stuff does wind up looking pretty fucking heinous).

After discovering this gorgeous British bloke on this fluffy and fun show, I promptly looked him up online to check out where I could see more of his hotness. It was then that I was once again reminded that I've never checked out the original British version of a short-lived Americanized tv show, Coupling. Thank you, Netflix, for changing that. Tomorrow, I shall watch the DVDs you've loaned me and commence with telling people to bugger off and putting the word bloody in front of everything I possibly can.

I bloody well know that's what will happen!

Tonight, I started reading He's a Stud, She's a Slut, and 49 Other Double Standards Every Woman Should Know and I've decided what better way to fully process such an entertaining and relevant book than to take each one of these double standards and look at how they relate to my own life. I do realize my experiences may be drastically different than some and I may be ignoring issues that those people have to deal with but for now, I'm going to look at how they relate to just me.

An entry may be just about one of the double standards, it may be about a few of them. I make no promises other than to spill what's likely to be far too much information about my personal life into this little white box before hitting "publish post." Let the narcissism begin now.

1. He's a Stud, She's a Slut:
"If you have a vagina, chances are someone has called you a slut at least once in your life. There's just no getting around it."
I don't ever remember being called a slut to my face but I'm about 99.9% sure I've been called one behind my back. I never really dated while I was growing up and I didn't have sex until a few days before my 22nd birthday. Since I figured out, "wow, that's really fucking fun," I've made up for plenty of lost time and more than once or twice, I've wondered to myself if I'm a slut. And to some, if I sat down and walked them through my sexual experiences, I'm sure that's exactly what they would think of me. But the way I see it, each and every one of those times I had sex, there was a male involved. I didn't have sex by myself and my general philosophy toward all things sex-related is "if it's consensual, have at it." I don't care how many girls a guy has slept with because all I take it to mean is, "hey, he likes having sex." I don't think he's any more "manly" than the next guy if he's had 12 partners and the next guy has had three. And contrary to popular opinion, gasp! Women like sex too! So when I hear about a woman who's slept with 30 guys in 2 years, all I think is, "hey, she likes having sex." Neither male nor female sexuality is something to be tamed or controlled and that's exactly what the word "slut" attempts to do. Only just for women. No thanks.

2. He's Chill, She's on the Pill
"It's our responsibility to have safe sex: birth control pills, diaphragms, spermicides - shit, we even have to convince men to wear condoms! I say it's crap."
I've never really felt too strongly about this issue. I've been on the pill since I was 14, not because I was gettin' it on in high school but because I was a girl and had girlie problems that made me want to rip my uterus right out. So taking the pill (and paying for it) has just always been one of those things I've been used to and have done because I need to. While in both of the relationships I've been in that were...long-term and long-term-esque, it was discussed and both were willing to help cover that cost, but didn't, simply because I didn't see the need. I've also been lucky enough to always have some kind of health insurance, which a fucking lot of women don't. So this isn't nearly as big of an issue as it is to a lot of women. In the past, I've also been plenty stupid about protecting myself but in none of those situations have I thought it to be someone's fault other than my own. Of course, if given the option, a guy isn't gonna wear a condom...who the fuck wants to wear a condom? But most reasonable adults, if not in a committed relationship, realize the need for one today and suck it up and act like adults. I realize to others, it's not as easy but for me, I think maybe because the pill's been a part of my life for so long, I've never taken issue with birth control options being anyone's responsibility but my own. Although I love my family dearly and have no doubt they love me, to a certain extent, I've always believed that I'm the only one who's gonna take care of me. So I'm going to make sure I do.

3. He's Rough, She's Dainty:
"You really don't need to look much further than the nonsense directed at our children to see a ton of double standards at play."
Looking back on my childhood, I can see a lot more instances of where this manly man vs. girlie girl idea applied. I've always hated skirts and dresses, I've always sworn like a sailor, I hate shoes, I wear nothing but foundation on my face, and I belch...I've never been "feminine," according to society's definition. I don't think my parents drilled it into my brother, "be a man!" and into me, "be a girl!" but his room was always blue, mine always pink. I did play with Barbies and he did play with Matchbox cars, he did go out riding his bike while I sat out back at the picnic table playing with dolls. I guess I've never felt like my parents necessarily pushed gender roles onto us because I didn't grow up to be the "girlie girl" that we're often told we need to be. And although my mom still occasionally will throw in, "but you'd look so cute if you just wore a skirt now and then," I've never felt like I needed to be...girl-specific in order to be accepted.

4. He's a Hero, She's a Damsel
"...I've never, ever wanted a guy to put me on a pedestal."
I relate to this one a ton. I've always been Daddy's Little Girl. And although my brother and I have both grown closer to both parents, my mom always favored my brother and my dad always favored me. As an adult woman, I think it's inevitable to look at your relationship with men in the context of your relationship with your father and although I notice things that may be less than desirable, I notice much more that is. Although I've been a Daddy's Girl my whole life, I don't feel like he ever thought I was a little princess who could do no wrong. His general parenting philosophy with us was "I'll give you just enough rope to hang yourself." He knew we'd fuck up but he also knew that he'd given us the best resources and taught us the best he could so that we wouldn't fuck up. Did we fuck up? Of course we did. But I don't ever feel that my father was over-protective or tried to keep me from the world because I was a fragile, young girl. He's always known that eventually, his baby girl was going to go out into the world and he wasn't going to be able to control what happens to her. And I think he always knew that the best thing he could do for me was make sure I know what I need to know to take care of myself and make sure I know that I'm capable of taking care of myself. And for as long as I can remember, I've known that.

I also think that because of their relationship, I've never been pushed to have someone else take care of me. My mom has always worked, my dad has always helped out around the house. Growing up, I never felt like I was the girl who was supposed to go off and get married so that someone could step into my dad's role and take care of me. Because although he's done everything in the world for me, and still tries to, I don't ever remember feeling like my dad did that because I was incapable. I've always known that he does it because he loves me.

I believe that both of my parents taught me to be a good person because it's the right thing to be. I hold the doors open for people behind me, not because I hope to get something in return or I think they need more help than I do, but because it's polite. Just today, a male co-worker and I went out to grab everyone's lunch and rode the elevator with a bunch of men, who all somewhat stepped aside so that I could step off the elevator first. Completely unnecessary and made me giggle and mention it to my co-worker but I do understand that some people simply see it as a matter of common courtesy; as do I. As far as I'm concerned, chivalry is really just another way of saying, "I'm gonna do something because you're too weak to do it yourself" or "I'm gonna do something nice so that you'll fuck me." I was never raised to put much stock in chivalry and I never plan to. If you'd like to hold my door open or let me step off the elevator first, then I'll smile and say thank you and hope that you're doing it because you're a nice person. If you're doing it because you feel like you need to or you want something in return, kindly piss off.

Okay, "He's Metrosexual, She's Anorexic" will have to wait for the next post.

c'est magnifique

I usually don't give a rat's ass about most celebrities or their babies. But Angelina named one of her twins, Vivienne Marcheline, which I think is a fantastic name and one I absolutely adore. It sounds all French and flowy and I'm imagining her growing up to look like Catherine Deneuve circa 1967.

That is all.

awesomeness

Thy name is The Golden Girls.

7 Things You Probably Don't Know About The Golden Girls.

I'd like to add #8, please:
- Joss Whedon's father, Tom Wheden, was a co-executive producer on the show. That genius apple didn't fall far from that genius tree, now did it?

the one without a witty title line

Okay, so I don't look like my 2nd favorite Cusack in Sixteen Candles...



...but I do wear a bite guard when I sleep. After waking up so many times with a headache and being woken up by a boyfriend to be told, "holy fuck, I think you're gonna grind your teeth right out of your mouth," I figured it was time for a trip to the ol' dentist. It's clear and unnoticeable unless I fall asleep like the lady on my bus who sits there with her mouth gaping open and drooling all over herself. Which I don't. Or if I try and say something like, "Sally sells sea shells down by the sea shore." And really, how often does that come up in bedtime conversation? It helps prevent me from gnawing the hell out of my teeth but even though I don't wake up every morning with a headache, I do still wake up with one sometimes.

And when one wakes up with a wicked headache, it's probably not the greatest of ideas to stop into Caribou Coffee to get a caffeine-full cup of tasty espresso goodness. Caffeeine has never really had a huge effect on me and I've generally been able to drink it whenever I wanted and not wind up either all jittery or just wanting to crash. But these days, it's fucking with my body. Hell, coffee in general is starting to fuck with my body and I do not enjoy.

If this is what approaching 30 looks like, 30 can scurry off and go suck a fat one.

Reason #42,102,293 why winter is my favorite season

Far fewer centipedes.

I've never been overly fond of creepy crawly things but I've never been particularly freaked out by many of them either. See a spider? I'll probably cringe a bit and then proceed to kill it, flush it, and be on my merry way.

But I can soooooooo do without the effing centipedes I keep killing in my bedroom because each time I see one, I scream that "eww, gross, there's a big bug and it could kill me!" scream and shudder. They remind me of that icky-looking crawly thing that popped out of Buffy's "Bad Eggs" and attached itself to the backs of Sunnyside's inhabitants. Serious heebie jeebies.

When I went to bed last night, I killed one my wall near the ceiling. I couldn't sleep so instead, I flipped through my iPod for far too long, and by the time I got up to pee one last time before deciding I'd force myself to sleep, when I flicked on the light, sure enough, there was another one on the same wall, only a few feet away from where I squashed the first little bastard.

They're fucking gross. And they have far too many legs. And they move much quicker than something should for that size. My building is pretty decent but it's also an older building and there are plenty of cracks along my windowsills and a few small ones on my walls. And I'm sure the fact that this armpit of a city regularly has dew points in the summer often categorized by meteorologists as "tropical" doesn't help either.

Must eradicate the centipedes!

oh, delightful douchebaggery...

Wherever do I start?

Opponents of abstinence-based education reject shame as a value. When it comes to teen sex, their strategy is to immediately declare defeat and insist that kids are going to have sex no matter what.
I reject shame as a value simply because it's pointless. Anyone get picked on as a kid? Called a sissy boy? Called a fattie? Called a dirtball because Mommy or Daddy didn't have a job and couldn't buy you the latest clothes the kids were wearing? Did it feel good? No. It's cruel. And it speaks volumes about the person dishing out the shame and not a thing about the person receiving it. I also am an opponent of abstinence-based education, not only because I believe kids are gonna have sex no matter what but I don't believe instilling fear into kids is the right way to about suggesting to them it may not be in their best interest to be having sex at a young age. Sure, we should be sure to explain what kind of emotions can often come along with sex but we shouldn't be telling them it's the absolute worst thing you can do in life. Human sexuality isn't a war that someone is either winning or losing. It's sexuality. Nobody's going to "conquer" it and nobody should be fighting to do so. Sex feels good. And it's meant to feel good. And what happens when these girls grow up? They're being shamed sex as teenagers and when they hit adulthood, they'll be expected to be wanton sex goddesses capable of blowing their partner's mind. Riddle me that one.

When the same girl shows up at the school clinic for five pregnancy tests in one month, shouldn't’t somebody be mocking her for it?
Seriously? So, the next time Peter Pedophile gets arrested for fondling little Timmy, how about we just point and laugh? That'll keep him from doing it again, right? It's like the death penalty. No murderer sits at home thinking, "wow, I could fry for this, I guess I'll just stay in and watch American Idol." How about someone actually sits down with that girl who showed up at the clinic for pregnancy tests and talks to her about sex and the consequences and gives her the resources she needs to make sure she's not in for a 6th test. If she's been in 5 times, it's pretty clear that she's fucking. Repeatedly. Teach her what she needs to know in order to take care of herself. And while we're doing that, how about we have the same discussion with the boy who may have knocked the girl up? Because last time I checked, it takes at least two people to have sex and both ought to be held accountable.

But I’ll take one Beverly Farms, belly-rubbing dance routine over a dozen sex-ed bureaucrats any day. It’s probably more effective, and definitely more fun to watch.
It's more entertaining to you because you're a fucking tool who thinks watching people mock others actually accomplishes something other than demonstrating the mocker's douchebagginess.

Dearest Writer of This Article: Grade school is over. Welcome to adulthood. Join us, won't you?

Trust

Recently, someone not all that close to me pissed me off by betraying a fairly insignificant confidence but still...a confidence. It wasn't the piece of information I care about at all but the thing that pissed me off was the simple fact that she acted like a friend one minute and a gossipy high school girl the second. Translation: no matter how small, it's a betrayal of trust. And no matter how small, when that happens, I tend to get super pissed.

Trust is a funny thing. Something that doesn't come very easily to me, in a lot of ways, mainly because I tend to equate it with vulnerability. Break the trust and the vulnerability spills out all over the place, which makes me terribly uncomfortable. I consider myself a pretty open person and I'm generally willing to offer up any information, provided someone asks me for it. But I also believe it's not so much the information I give you that offers up my vulnerability but the "why"s and the "how"s behind that information. I can tell you, "hey, I'm this way" but unless you know WHY I'm that way, I don't really think I've told you much.

I can deal with it when I'm the one responsible for the spillage (I'm re-watching Buffy, so beware extra "y"s and "age"s with my words) but even then, I'd rather deal with it with as few people as possible being aware of it. And when someone else takes it upon themselves to do that for me, it pisses me off. Seriously pisses me off. An anger-and-rage-"you must do something to curb this or you're gonna lose your fucking shit" kind of seriousness. I've managed to figure out the things that help me do that (exercise, a modest and entirely non-raging-alcoholic amount of wine, writing, and occasionally, talking to someone I think would be able to help). But the anger is still there until I do one of those things to work through it. And when it's there, it's there in a way that usually screams, "seriously, calm the fuck down, why is it that big of a deal?" And for me, that tends to often spill over into situations that involve tiny little insignificant things. I've broken plenty computer...mice? mouses? because my computer froze and I thought banging the mouse on my desk would fix things. It doesn't. And it doesn't make me feel better.

While thinking about this recent incident, I thought the other night about the very first time someone betrayed my trust. At the time, it was dealt with in a fairly quick and simple way. A way that seemed appropriate at the time and one I've always felt, for the most part, comfortable with. But I think over time, maybe that feeling has lessened? I'm not really sure. But I think maybe it's that big of a deal because the very first time it was a big deal, I just shrugged it off.

When I trust someone and they piss all over that, I think I get so overwhelmingly angry because I never got overwhelmingly angry the very first time I remember it happening. Correction. I never got overwhelmingly angry the very first time other than internally. I never took that anger and showed the person who betrayed my trust that it was there and that they were the cause of it.

The weird thing is that I don't really feel angry about it anymore. I don't necessarily feel like getting angry and that "taking it out on" the person who was responsible for it would accomplish a single thing. I sometimes think maybe it would help to simply say, "hey, remember when you did that? I didn't really tell you at the time but I wanted to stab you with sharp objects over and over again. There, now you know. Carry on." I think maybe physically telling the person that they pissed me off, even if I no longer feel that way, will help me not jump immediately to anger when it happens again.

I don't know. But I may just try it.

P.S. Not many people read this space and even fewer make comments. But if you're planning on commenting and you have a pretty good hunch as to what I'm talking about in the latter half of this post, I'd appreciate uber vagueness on your part as well. Merci.

there goes another one

Seriously. Soon, I'm gonna have to start hoping I'm in a LOST-esque plane crash that leaves me with nothing but the earth and my own ingenuity with which to survive.

Since I can't think of a single corporation in the world that values anything about me other than the money in my purse, that's the only way I ever really feel like I can give them a big, fat "fuck right the fuck off, big evil company!"

So dearest Amazon, my letter should be arriving shortly. But even before that...and long after that...my money no longer will be.