not a "happy birthday co-worker!" kind of cake

The rest of the cakes behind the link below are so fantastically...wrong, it was tough deciding which one to use as the lead-in here. This one would be an entirely different cake if it didn't have on it the words "sexual harassment" and the well known red circle with a slash through it that screams "NO". But since it does...well, I'm not sure what else I really have to say.

Click for more...not so thoughtful ways to ruin cake. You want to. I promise.

And because I'm a bit skeptical that the sexual harassment cake was enough to get you to get all clicky with the linkage, here are just a few of the awesome others:


Never Forget. 911. Fuck The Terrorists.


Giddy up, carrots! Giddy up!


Eww. Just fucking ew.

oh Fred Phelps, you amuse me so

As a north side Chicago gal, I'm not too terribly familiar with the south side, except for what I hear and read.

But if I'm not mistaken, the location of Bernie Mac's memorial service, the one Fred Phelps and his Merry Band of Asshats are planning to picket, is in a neighborhood that, since the late 80s early 90s, has been referred to as the Wild Hundreds, thanks to its violence and crime.

Since they're not only wildly homophobic but racist as well, that 98% African American statistic of the neighborhood should bode real well for Phelps.

Here's to the possibility of Bernie Mac's memorial service being every bit as entertaining as he often was.

if only, if only, if only

Killer taped boy's torture, prosecutor says

The crime was meticulously planned, the killer choreographing every step from his surveillance of the doomed family to the videotaped torture of one of his youngest victims. Yet something as simple as a locked back door, or fiercer family dogs, might have turned Joseph Edward Duncan III away.

It's good to know victim blaming is alive and well with good ol' fashion brutal slayings and not just when talking about raping drunken sluts.

Later on in the article...

"He made a decision: 'If that back door is locked, I'm going to abort,"' Moss said Duncan later told police.

Oh, Mr. Duncan, don't toy with me. If you think anyone is actually going to believe something as simple as a locked door was going to prevent your sociopathic ass from killing this family, you're even more deranged that your crazy-assed photo with this news piece would lead us to believe.

I do believe there are things one can do to try and prevent nasty, horrible things from happening to them. When I come home late at night, I take my headphones off, I have my keys in hand, I try and be aware of everything around me. But you know what? Even if I was singing and skipping along to my tunes while talking on my cell phone and painting my nails, it still wouldn't mean it's acceptable for someone to attack me. And it still wouldn't mean it's my fault. Does the article say, "silly family, it's your fault you're all dead!"? Of course not. But how many people really think friends and family members of these poor people aren't already thinking, "my god, what could I have done? How could we have stopped it?" I think for most, it's a very basic response to try and think of what could have gone differently. If only this...if only that...

But the bottom line is that nothing this family did directly led to this whackjob killing them. The fact that he's a whackjob is what did it. They didn't put a sign on their door saying "how's about a killing spree?" and I find it seriously difficult to believe anything they could have done would have saved their lives if this guy was feeling the urge to "terrorize the Groene family, all because he wanted to "live out his fantasy" and exact revenge on society for perceived wrongs."

Can we pretty please stop suggesting as much?

city livin' sexual harassment

Quick re-cap:

1. MTA gets set to launch an anti-sexual harassment subway campaign
2. Woman writes an op-ed piece regarding the upcoming ads
3. Douchebag, while entitled to his opinion, informs the woman of it in this delightfully offensive, sexist stupid ass letter:

Dear Courtney,

I read your opinions about the MTA raising awareness about sexual misconduct on the subways and found it very naive and written from a very white-middle-class-women-studies-privaleged perspective. You are correct that women have been dealing with this kind of stuff from guys for years, but what about how women dress in the subways? Today (after reading your opinion) while on the subway, I saw a woman sit near me with a very low cut shirt and very large tits...she looked hot! I totally stared at her tits any chance I could get...which is probably why she wore the shirt right? I also see scores of women with those cotton summer dresses on and just a thong underneath, so you see their asses bobbling around under the skirt. That sounds like blaming the victim right? Well when you leave almost nothing to the imagination, it doesn't take much for it to run wild. This is not to say you whip your cock out at any moment or press your boner on any tart that wears a hot outfit, but where they "asking for it"? I know you are probably fuming by now, but from the looks of your picture you probably don't get sexually harrassed much, so maybe you are jealous of all of the hot-ass bitches with the big titties, shaved snatches and round asses that get some action underground.

hells to the motherfuckin' yeah!!!!

ChanceNoble (snhca@exit3.com)
Typos and misspellings, of course, are his.

I was initially going to email this asshat but I decided he really isn't worth the personal attention and instead, I'll just respond in my own little piece of the internet.

A. Not all women get dressed in the morning thinking, “okay, what will draw the most attention from the most men?” You know why some women wear low cut shirts? Because they like how their tits look in them. Because they like the style. Because they like the color. Because they like the fit. Because it’s hot and they don’t want to wear a turtleneck in the middle of August. Because it makes them feel good. It’s hard enough having bodaciously bigger tatas because they’re just plain gonna be stared at, no matter what’s covering them. But to be made to feel like they have to be covered so as not to allow some stranger to assume their size automatically means their owner is a huge, always willing slut is ridiculous.

B. I don’t understand thongs, I don’t. I think they’re uncomfortable and I’m guessing they’re fairly problematic for women prone to unpleasant girlie infections. But that’s just me. I don’t give a tiny rat’s ass what women wear as underwear or if they wear underwear at all, for that matter. But a thong and a summer dress isn’t “leaving almost nothing to the imagination,” it’s “wearing what one is comfortable in.” This drives me batty because really, either way….we’re fucked. If we wear the thongs with a summer dress, we’re big, skanky whores. If we wear granny panties with the summer dress, we’re probably uptight prudes who like only the missionary position. Should we really not be allowed to make our own decisions when it comes to covering our asses?

C. And my personal favorite…”from the looks of your picture you probably don’t get sexually harassed much.” Sexual harassment isn’t a compliment. It isn’t a nice way for a guy to say, “hey, I find you visually appealing and I’d like to get to know you better.” It’s a way to objectify women, break them down into body parts, publicly humiliate them, and reinforce the misconception that we exist solely for men’s enjoyment. Not too long ago, I stayed after work and had a few drinks for a co-worker’s birthday, accidentally forgot there was a Cubs game that night and took the bus home that goes right by Wrigley Field. Thanks to several beers, I was about to pee my freaking pants and decided to get off the bus right at Wrigley Field, run into the McDonald’s across the street, and then hop back on the bus. So after I peed, I walked to the corner, waited for the bus, and proceeded to people watch the yuppie tools in the bar across from me. A few minutes later, a group of guys walked by; 2 of whom were probably about my age and 3 who were maybe in their late 30s, early 40s. They walked directly in front of me to a limo that was waiting for them and one made me the oh so polite offer of, “hey baby, how about you come with us instead of the bus (accompanied by grabbing what I can only assume was his tiny, little, insecure, 5-minute lasting cock)? I’ll be a better ride, I promise!” And you know what? I’m not 5’9”, with blond hair, blue eyes, and a size 6 figure. I’m 5’5” with brown hair and a size 16 figure. I’m by no means hideous but I’m not attractive according to society-accepted and supported standards. And get your surprise face out…I was still physically “assaulted” before I was really old enough to fully comprehend it (I use quotes simply because I’ve never really put a definition on it that I’m comfortable with). And I remember exactly where I was, what I was doing, and even what I was wearing. And it wasn’t a thong, a push-up bra, and fishnets. It was jeans and a long sleeve shirt that in no way accentuated the girlie gifts that are my tits. Neither sexual harassment nor sexual assault is set aside for perfectly pretty girls. It’s set aside for every girl who someone wants to make feel…less than.

D. Contrary to what society and the media tends to throw in our faces the majority of the time, not all of us feel the need to have huge tits and naughty bits that look like they belong to a pre-pubescent girl. Life is not a porn set and not all of us walk out into the world everyday lookin’ to “get some underground action.” Because, ya know, that would equate to our wanting full-on consensual underground sex. For those who’d like to fuck in a dark corner of the subway, have right the hell at it. I hope it’s phenomenal for both (or all) of those involved. But groping and / or rubbing up against and / or strokin’ one off on your way to work in the morning and / or telling us you’d like to tap that or hit that or whatever other phrase equates to “hows about we fuck?”…that’s not full-on consensual sex. It’s sexual harassment. Most of us prefer iPods or books while going about our day on public transportation. We’re on our way to work or the park or the store or wherever we may be headed, just like you are. Those harsh fluorescent lights aren’t going to turn into flattering spotlights, you’re not gonna hear the “bow chica bow bow” music start up over the speakers, and the F train or the 6 or the Red Line isn’t going to suddenly morph into the set of Subway Sluts #23. The day is going to proceed just as it was. And mothers and sisters and aunts and friends and lovers are going to continue to go about their business, expecting nothing less than the respect and courtesy given to the fathers and brothers and uncles and friends and lovers sitting next to them.

there's nothing quite like a war criminal enjoyin' the Olympics with class!

Oh George, I know what you're thinkin', pal...I'm thinkin' it too. Don't worry, it's okay...it's natural, I promise.

More stupid, drunken, Texan presidential amusement here

huh

While the Red Eye sure as hell isn't anywhere near as news-filled as the Chicago Tribune, I pick it up everyday simply so I can do the crossword puzzle and the sudoku (until Thursday, which is when it gets too difficult for me). But today, I notice my horoscope says:

A massive pileup of friendly planets could create a personal breakthrough. Finally, you'll find a pair of jeans that make your butt look great. For once, when you walk up to a cute girl at a bar and ask her "What's your sign" she won't smack you in the face.

Personal breakthroughs are always welcome and I'm hoping for a couple while I'm back in New York for vacation. And I did actually find jeans over the weekend that that I love my ass in.

But what's with assuming I'm a dude who's trolling for drunken girl bar ass? I'm sure there are guys who read the horoscopes but something tells me more women do than men. Some of the other signs have "he'll do this" and "she'll do this"...how about letting me know if I'm gonna get smacked for hitting on a guy in a bar? Or if I'm going to become the type of person who hits on someone at a bar in the first place?

Or perhaps this is all just an entirely moot point since I generally tend to think horoscopes are complete phooey?

Yeah, let's go with that.

an open letter to little boys in grown men's bodies

Dearest douchebags,

1. No matter how casual the environment, the workplace is still a professional place.
It's great when co-workers can be friends with each other and hang out outside of work. But when you're at work and discussing the lives of co-workers that aren't professional, but personal, it's going to get around the office. The best way to nip that problem in the bud is to not let it start in the first place.

2. Just because one person has a penis and one person has a vagina, that doesn't mean they're rubbing them up against each other in the name of gettin' it on.
It's hard enough making a valuable and meaningful connection with people as you get older without throwing sexual politics into the mix. Some men connect better with women, some women connect better with men. This doesn't automatically mean their connection is a physical one. And if you continue to make this assumption about me and someone I care about...gasp! in an entirely platonic, non-sexual, appreciate-who-he-is-as-a-person kind of way, I promise you, I'm going to get seriously pissed.

3. Your female co-workers, even your female assistants, aren't things to be "tapped" or "hit."
First of all, unless you're a drunken frat boy at a Cubs game, nobody says "I know you're hittin' that" or any other such ridiculous euphemism for sex. But most importantly, you especially don't say this when the thing being hit is that female assistant of yours that I mentioned. Ya know...ME. While it still would have been terribly inaccurate and disrespectful, had you simply said, "so, I hear you and her are having sex, eh?" it would have been one thing. But you didn't. I was referred to as the "thing" in the equation existing for the purpose of my co-worker's sexual pleasure. An erroneous statement and a fucking sexist one, at that.

4. A flirtatious, crush-esque relationship does not equate to "a huge thing" for someone.
You know absolutely dick about me. You know dick about my life, you know dick about my feelings. So to tell a co-worker I have "a huge thing" for him is not only wildly disrespectful, it's wildly inaccurate. Are you sensing a theme here, from my constant use of the words "disrespect" and "inaccurate?" Unless you actually know of my feelings for other people, kindly refrain from drawing your own conclusions. Because most likely, they're gonna be wrong.

To sum up, I have two words for you. Sexual. Harassment. Should the rumour that my co-worker is "hittin' that" get back to the partners I support or people higher up than your fucking Senior Manager title or his boss, heads are gonna roll. But before they do, I'm gonna roll right into the office of our HR Manager and make sure she's well aware of the untrue rumors running around the office and the fact that people at the Manager and Senior Manager levels are the ones spreading them, the ones referring to their administrative assistant as not a person but something to be fucked, and contributing to the unnecessary awkward workplace environment I've now been put in. We'll see how the head of HR wants to deal with it from there, mmmkay?

Respectfully (even though you've shown me no respect),
Me