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September 12th, 2007
07:51 am
So I don't have a computer right now. I took it in for repair last weekend and I still haven't gotten it back. So I am writng from the Marlboro computer lab.
When I get my computer back I will review some of the fashion shows that are coming out now. I can't do it from the computer lab becuase it's full of macs and I don't know how to use them, I mean you can't even right click. But on the menu is of course Oscar de la Renta, as well as Ralph Lauren, which is a big military/equestrian type collection, Zac Posen, which is nicely tailored stuff, Marc by Marc Jacobs which is also very tailored and also includes some men's stuff but has some unfortunately Abercrombie & Fitchlike sweaters & such, and Betsey Johnson who did a collection of silly prom dresses so of course I will write about those.
As I predicted it is a pretty good season, although spring is never as good as fall because fall tends to have more tailored, fitted stuff as well as jackets and suits which I like, while spring has a lot of nice dresses, but is more likely to feature shapeless bags and lots of "edgy" baring of skin (what would be really edgy, is if the old guy designer came out in a strapless minidress, naked women have long since ceased to be edgy). There are a fair amount of bags this spring but we also have the return of the suit, which is really exciting, as well as hip length jackets, as opposed to these nasty boleros and "boxy" "jackets" that come down to like the breasts, and some poofy dresses as well as some nicely fitting cotton ones.
Current Location: marlboro
Current Music: actually I'm listening to feminist internet radio
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August 31st, 2007
02:40 am
There's this new style of shoe that seems to be popular, which is lace-up heels. They actually cover your whole foot, unlike this strappy/peep-toe shit we've been saddled with for who knows how long. Unfortunately, no shoe this coming season seems to have a heel lower than three inches, which means that the shoe manufacturers can have a bag of my used kitty litter before they can have my money. It's not like I won't wear a moderate heel once in a awhile, but the way your foot has to bend to even get into these things is obscene.
It's really a shame though, because there are some really nice looking shoes out, and you could even wear tights with them. Maybe the lower end manufacturers will get to them next season, and make some for women who actually intend to make use of our ambulatory functions.
I'll post some pictures next time I get on an actual internet connection, so you can all see the heartrending loss amidst my deluge of righteous fury.
Current Location: my house has th connectivty of a doorknob. a wooden doorknob
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/opiummmm/foxies/okay.gif) blank
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August 24th, 2007
10:49 am
This dude on a feminist blog just posted, in response to the idea that women can have children through artificial insemination if we don't like the sex that men insist on, and that someday reproductive technologies may allow for children made entirely by women, responded that we lezzies had better be careful and not alienate men, because otherwise we would have to resort to cloning, and the Asgards on Stargate did that and now they're dying out.
I'm going to enjoy a little relaxing time allowing myself to believe that this is one of the great minds of the patriarchy at work.
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August 23rd, 2007
01:22 pm
Things to do when nobody shows up at my restaurant:
*See if I can get the cook to make me food
*See how high-ticket of a meal I can get the cook to make me (I'm only up to hamburger. Amber managed chicken marsala, but that's because she's the Fred's great-niece.)
*Write a novel in the little notebook I carry around
*Write a paper on precedent for positive vs negative rights in First Amendment law in said little notebook
*Possibly, I should think about writing a paper on, say, the representation of classical ethics in early modern theater, since I actually have to do that, whereas the other stuff just comes right out of my ass
*Complain about Charlie with Amber or Jenny (At least he's never told ME that he wants to see me wiggle. Me he just yells at when I do something wrong.)
*Clean anything in sight so it will be done and I can leave within ten minute of closing
*Feed stolen pot roast to the possibly-stray cat who seems to like our porch (well, now I know why she likes it, hee hee)
*Read real estate papers at the bar
Yesterday I was folding napkins at the bar. There was this old guy there who has been coming in every night for a couple weeks now, he's pretty handicapped already and then he gets amazingly drunk, and his girlfriend (younger than him, but still middle-aged) completely takes care of him cause he collapses otherwise. He was staring at me while I folded the napkins, and then he started commenting incessantly on how pretty and dutiful it was (He was, of course, right, but I would have referred to it as "efficient"). I really didn't want his "nice little girl doing pretty little work" praise, but it wasn't particularly creepy, especially by bar standards, so I just tried to quip back at him and laugh as confidently as possible (I don't know if he's one of them, but some people find captive audiences of young women laughing nervously enormously titillating). Anyway, the interesting part was that Charlie was next to me and he was also praising my napkin folding. To the dude. Because telling ME I did something right would probably cause him intestinal blockage.
I have made a shit ton of money the past couple weeks. Because people have started coming to the restaurant. I've been making nearly twice as much in tips in a night as I was in July. Also, for the past week, I have been working alone. Every night. Except Amber, the bartender, has been taking tables for me once I get over four. But it means I've had to do all the closing work that two waitresses usually do for three days in a row. Probably (hopefully) four, because Martin was sick yesterday, so he's probably still sick, and I don't want him around. Also, he's annoying.
Current Location: The shithole
Current Music: Iron Maiden - Can I Play With Madness
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August 7th, 2007
03:59 am - I WORK TOO MUCH MY JOB SUCKS AND SO DOES MY BOSS so this post is about something completely diffrent
I wish the presidential election would just happen so I wouldn't have to hear about it anymore. Even the primaries are six months away still. It's pathetic.
Everyone's running around flapping their arms going "Oh no! Oh no! What if Hillary becomes president" (because she's so much worse than, I dunno, Kerry was. Or Edwards. Or, lemme see, everyone else) I think they may have missed the part where we're more likely to all be killed by a meteor.
Anyway I can't bring myself to particularly distinguish at all between the democrats, because they're all just the same ruling class, they just think it's more effective to maintain their domination by throwing the subordinate classes a bone so we all get Stockholm Syndrome then by having a big war (the Republican strategy). But, despite my general apathy, I will have to leave the country if Mitt Romney wins. Granted, this is quite unlikely. i see the probability as somewhat like this:
-Old white protastant dude (McCain, Edwards, Giuliani, I think they're all OWPDs) wins
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-Mitt wins
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-We all get killed by a meteor before the election takes place
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-Hillary wins
So you can see that, although it is unlikely, it is by no means the unlikeliest of outcomes. And it is deeply undesirable, both because I think law and real estate tycooning and everything are probably really different in other places and I would have to start again, and because I have no desire to see my own mother country, even though she kinda sucks right now, fall even deeper into the clutches of madmen. So I wish they (I mean we, I guess, in a sense so deeply theoretical it's practically postmodern) would just decide already.
Also, note whom I called by their first names as opposed to their last. Yup, you guessed it, the OWPDs get the title of respect, or at least detachment because I didn't say Mr or Senator or everything. Everyone else is on a first name basis. I have been noticing that in the news but I didn't notice I was doing it until I read it over, so I decided to leave it in as proof that life sucks (But we neeeeeeeeeeeed to use Hillary's first name! To distinguish her from her huuuuuuuuusband! Who is soooo active in politics these days, and is so often mentioned in the same context! And this is why we need to preserve the tradition of women taking their husbands last names! Because confusion is gooood for you! Also it gives us a pretext to address important women like they're a kid or our friend down the block rather than a us senator! And that's what our founding fathers fought for) Sorry, I was demonically possessed by Phyllis Schlafly.
Anyway, that was insightful political commentary by yours truly. You have now been edified.
Current Location: Jacksonville, the official sinkhole of southern vermont
Current Mood: fucking tired
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June 14th, 2007
02:02 am - Brag; Slacker
My dad told me I couldn't get into law school, so I took a practice LSAT and got 177, aka 96%, aka 99th percentile. It's freakishly easy. I love doing well at something again. I'm doing so badly at everything I do now. Anyway, I could get into law school if I applied after I got out of Marlboro. The reason being that my Plan grade will overrule all of my junior and senior year grades (ie if I get an A- all of my grades for the last two years will become A-) and I have reason to believe that my Plan grade will be better than my class grades, and my GPA will go up. I wouldn't go straight back to school anyway, I'd knife myself. I'm just worried I'll never get a job without specific training for that job, experience being required to work at like the freakin general store nowadays.
I can't believe I'm thinking about possibilities for 2+ years in the future when I have to finish Trevor's pants like this week.
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June 11th, 2007
06:06 pm
I'm alive! I'm still alive! That is to say, I have the Internet.
I have been living in Jacksonville, VT (population 234) for the last month with no phone, no internet, and no cell phone service. Sorry if I've been out of touch any.
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May 3rd, 2007
03:35 pm
I never thought I would be tired of buying fabric. When one extra dollar per yard equals fifty dollars more on my purchase (and therefore towards my monthly credit limit) and nine dollars more on the item's retail price, I can't feel the fabric without ordering swatches and adding a week or more until I receive the goods, and I need them as soon as possible because I need to make samples of each item to send to the Faire before I can register a booth and the price of a booth goes up every month, all those things make shopping stressful. And when my credit card sometimes randomly doesn't work and then works fine on the same day. I am getting very tired of calling the credit card company.
Feminism class is so stressful as well, because I always seem to start a fight. Today's fight was about whether sexual attractiveness is power. I argued that while it confers benefits, sometimes even a lot of benefits, that's not the same as power, because the attractive person doesn't control what benefits they get, and they can be taken away at any time. That's not to say it's better to be unattractive, there is a certain amount of privilege in not being considered gross by society at large. I just get very frustrated by the idea that women have the real power because they have teh sexxx powerz over teh menzzzz!! That's not power, at best, it's influence, which can be ignored, and at worst it's rapeability. I want my power to be based on my personhood, and my sex to be based on having some good sex with people I like, not getting them to do what I want so I'll put out.
Um, there was something else...it was about my actual life...um. Oh yeah, I'm moving a week from today!! OMG!! I'm moving into my house with my giant kitchen, giant bathroom, HUMONGOUS sewing room in the back and my BOYFRIEND! I think. He refuses to make up his actual mind, he says he "thinks he's staying". It's frustrating, he has like a pathologically hard time making decisions, but he really needs to do it, because it's stressing me out, but there are also practical issues that it effects. If he leaves, I need a full-time job and a roommate search starting now. (It's a two-bedroom, my sewing room is an unfinished storage room/attic type thing in the back) If he stays, I can make do with a part-time job because my costs go down by almost half, and then I'll have more time to work on Black Cat as well as more time to spend with him and the Trio. It is going to be the most exciting thing ever to be in my actual house living my life and working on my business. I am so excited I want to move right this instant.
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April 29th, 2007
07:05 pm - PLEASE EXCUSE MY MASSIVE HYPOCRISY IT ONLY JUST OCCURED TO ME
I CAN'T TALK. I MAKE CORSETS. DUH
Current Location: HYPOCRITE LAND
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/opiummmm/foxies/angry.gif) HYPOCRITICAL
Current Music: THE HYPOCRITE SOUNDTRACK
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02:36 pm
Marlboro's supposed to be having a student-taught pole dancing class next spring. For credit.
All the women in my acting class were raving about how excited they were. And I feel like part of me is dead. It's not that outrageous. It's simply the last straw, and the closest to home.
Our culture is bogged down in porn. In this insane performance that we mistake for sexual expression. I feel like everywhere I go I'm expected to put on some sort of sexual or pseudo-sexual performance or mask. Whether it's painting my lips red, being ordered to smile by strangers on the street, walking past a rack of women's magazines telling me what to do for men and men's magazines telling men what I can do for them, or smiling pleasantly in a group of women cooing about the excitement of dancing on tables. I want a way to show that I opt out, without simply becoming invisible. I don't want to feel like I have to hide myself in my house or hide my body in baggy jeans and sweats in order not to be thought complicit.
Don't respond, please, to say I'm taking this too personally. It is personal for me, because I am that creature made up from breasts and an ass and legs and a nice smile; that is, I am a woman. Or, in the language of the United States of Pornomerica, a "girl".
It must be stifling for the men as well, since I imagine men to have interests other then sex, and possibly sexual interests other then doe-eyed, makeup-caked young women brought up to fulfill the desires it is assumed that they have. The ones watching the show have more power to leave, at least for a while, then those of us who are the show. But men or women, soon none of us will have any culture left, any interaction, besides a porn performance. And I don't know where I can go or what I can do to escape it, or even to not be part of it.
Sorry for the apocalyptic depression - your regular fashion & geekery will return shortly.
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April 17th, 2007
12:11 am
I was making a commodities map of Eberron.
Trevor: I wonder if the price of olives went way up after the Day of Mourning.
Adam: I was just thinking that half an hour ago
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April 9th, 2007
04:28 pm
I've like unknowingly become the class expert on Catharine MacKinnon. We're going through all the readings in feminism for the semester and it's like OK, Rachel, where does Mackinnon fit in? I just think it's funny because I spent like my last two years of high school reading bondage porn on the internet and now it's like I've been appointed the anti-porn ambassador to Marlboro College.
Also when you're doing research for expanding your depressing-ass paper on sexualized depictions of violence and objectification in advertising (that's a mouthful - I don't know how else to describe it) a good site to have on hand is catsinsinks.com. Not for the research, sort of to make it less painful even though it's not actually helping, like drinking an entire can of orange soda after you go to the dentist.
Current Location: campus center
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/opiummmm/foxies/working.gif) busy
Current Music: Axenstar - Far from Heaven
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March 31st, 2007
03:35 am - Pictures for you Mindy
Have you ever wanted to read commentary on clothes you can't afford from someone with a fresh, bullshit-free, handbag-disdaining view of the fashion world? Someone who knows that while a babydoll dress may make you look pregnant, good tailoring, a flattering fit, and controlled volume will never go out of style? Someone with a lot more fashion sense than Nicolas Ghesquiere?
Well, it's a good thing you read this journal! I am dedicated - at least so long as I'm procrastinating - to bringing you an exceedingly biased and thoroughly correct view of today's runways. And what better to review first (or at least only) then the definitively best line, agreed upon by 100% of me everywhere, in fashion today, Oscar de la Renta!
I love Oscar primarily because his clothes are made to actually be worn by women and make them look good, rather than as some abstract impression of his incredible artistic genius (yeah, I'm fucking looking at you, Alexander McQueen). His lines run from informal dresses through work clothes all the way to eveningwear, but don't venture into the range of "grunge chic". His clothes are consistently very feminine, but in an understated way. His cuts and fabrics are flattering, emphasizing the best parts of the figure without venturing into the overtly sexualised (what some, less enlightened than me, might refer to as "slutty") His lines generally include a few items with overstated features, such as an enormous collar or an entire suit in brocade, that few women would wear in everyday life, with the rest of the line filled out by eminently wearable clothes. This is not unheard of, but it is an exception when many designers alternate years between the purely conceptual and producing lines intended for actual wear.
Oscar has been accused, apparently as an attempt to detract him, of "giving the ladies what they want". As both a lady and an aspiring designer, I say: That sounds like a motherfucking good way to sell clothes to me! You keep the fuck on giving us ladies what we (or at least I, but I'm willing to speak for all women on this, since I'm right) want, Oscar!
I know I said today's dresses above, and as procrastinating again at a later date would not be unheard of for me, I fully intend to give Fall 07's runways a good shakedown. But since I should probably sleep at some point tonight, as well as possibly finish the essay which I'm procrastinating on, I thought I'd backtrack a little and rant about some awesome highlights from Fall 06 and Spring 07. Well, mostly the former, since de la Renta Fall 06 is the definitive (agreed upon by 100% of me's) best collection ever shown in the history of ever, while everything from spring 07 was crap, and Oscar's was just better crap.
( there are like 15 pictures in here, so beware, dialup users - such as, you know, me )
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March 30th, 2007
01:55 am - TMI
Drugs with medium-length half-lives suck. I should not be shivering like a heroin addict because I missed a day of prescription medication.
Also, that means I missed my BC pill last night too, and now I'm terrified I'm going to throw up because of it. That's actually idiotic though, because I miss a pill every month like clockwork. I'm pretty sure it's just my brain realizing that I'm halfway through one of the best papers I've ever done despite all the baggage I've built up around it, and trying to stop me one last time.
For a break from the exploration of my brain problems that this journal seems to have become, I give you cuteness in the form of merchandise. I'm no fan of Hot Topic, as I generally don't care to have my fandoms and fashion appropriated, made for a tenth the cost by underpaid Asians, repackaged, and sold back to me at three times the price. This is indeed an example of just the phenomenon I mention, but damned if it isn't a wonderful one. If I weren't already spending money left and right these days, I'd be tempted to buy one and keep it lest I have children one day, like a hope chest or something.
Current Location: Gackt - Uncontrol
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/opiummmm/foxies/sad.gif) accomplished, scared
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March 28th, 2007
02:03 pm
I have an Internet problem. I spend a ton of time online reading feminist blogs. My favorites are Pandagon, Feministe, and I Blame the Patriarchy, but I also end up following links from those to spend a lot of time reading others fairly frequently.
I've been realizing that reading these blogs only makes me frustrated, because I'm basically informed the minute anything misogynist happens anywhere in the world, and frankly, it happens a lot. The first two of those blogs have many posts per day, since they're done by more than one person. Following from this is that not only am I exposed daily to more misogyny than ever happens in real life, even in the United States, even at my reading speed I can spend hours on these blogs reading all the posts and all the comments. A lot of times I don't even realize how much time is passing until I stop. It's not that I don't notice it, I just don't realize its significance.
A few days ago I decided to stop the feminist blogs completely. It lasted about three days. During that time some of the time I wasted on the internet was replaced with other frivolous internet use, like looking at Harry Potter fanart or designer clothes on ebay, but a lot of the time was transferred directly into doing things that I cared about.
Then last night I tried to write my late paper for feminism class. This paper is incredibly late by now, over a month. The reason I didn't get it done on time was because I was sick, and I will maintain that that's legit until the day I go to my grave. But after that I had a hard time writing it - I picked a really charged topic which was a bad idea and I was anxious because it was late. and then when I talked to Meg she refused to help me because of that burka argument. So I ignored it for weeks. Now I don't know if she'll even accept it. Her grading rubric is a broken link. At this point, the stuff I've already written is so tangled that I can't even decipher it, let alone expand on it, so I have to start over, but when I try, I'm overwhelmed with anxiety and my mind goes blank.
So I tried to get it done last night and still couldn't, so to "look for inspiration" - or because I'm a pathetic loser who doesn't even have the excuse of a legitimate addiction because I know what withdrawl is like, and you don't get it from the internet - I started reading feminist blogs. Of course, I was three days behind, so I just kept reading the stuff I had missed, and any articles that were linked to, or other blogs...for five hours. I started before ten. I stopped at 2:20 to go to bed. By then I was feeling so upset by my lack of paper and my wasted time and misogyny that I just started crying and couldn't stop.
So this feminist blog thing is really dreadful. It really just makes things worse. But even knowing that, this morning I was about to go read them. I had to get up from my computer and stop myself. And even then, what stopped me was not remembering how incredibly upset it had made me just last night, but only remembering that I had decided to stop, and I had screwed it up once and could not allow myself to screw up that way again. So my sense of self preservation does not stop me, because I always say, "Just this once" or "just for 15 minutes" which of course never happens.
But I thought maybe if I told all of you reading this about how I have stopped reading feminist blogs once and for all, my sense of honor would keep me away from them.
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March 25th, 2007
12:52 am
When I am ridiculously wealthy I am going to wear Oscar de la Renta. Whenever I'm not wearing my own stuff, that is. Even if fall 2006 remains the pinnacle of his achievement.
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March 8th, 2007
01:11 pm
I want a serger. Oh, I want a serger so bad! Me and my serger would go skipping through the park with our finished seams that look better than handwork to the uneducated, and we would do everything so quickly and easily that all worries would be banished. Sergers start at like five hundred dollars though. Also, there's no point in getting the cheapest one, since it's really an investment and you want one with the right features and most importantly, one that will last. That brings it up to one or two thousand. And I don't even have any holidays coming up :( Also, I'm moving into an apartment, so I'm going to start having expenses. No serger money for me.
No, moving into an apartment is like the most exciting thing ever in the entire world. Really. It's worth having no serger money. I mean, as much as anything in the entire world is.
Current Mood: ![[mood icon]](http://p-stat.livejournal.com/img/mood/opiummmm/foxies/happy.gif) meh
Current Music: Sakura Tange - Hitotsu Dake
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March 5th, 2007
05:16 pm
OK I've calmed down a little bit since the last post (by going to Shaws and buying tortillas and waffles and like three frozen pot pies, but ok, at least I'm eating) and realised that it makes me sound like I have a massive persecution complex. Well, maybe I do, but I didn't mean to shove it on you guys. It was a frustrating class. I felt like I was being silenced in favor of letting the guys talk about how they felt personally insulted by MacKinnon. I wanted to get them to look at it from a woman's perspective, how it would feel to them if nearly all representation of them in culture, media, were sexualised, and sexualised in a distorted way at that, one that didn't really have much to do with their real desires but they're not quite sure any more because according to all they've seen since before they even reached puberty, that IS sex. To have sex be defined as a reflection of their bodies, to have their bodies thus seen as signifying sex. I didn't really know how to say it, and when I didn't get a chance to try, I flipped out.
Also, getting that out there actually made me feel better about sex than I have in at least weeks, possibly longer. Once I've distanced myself from representing sex, I feel a lot better enjoying sex. My sex life can be one more thing on the list of how I define myself.
Lately, I've been feeling really antagonistic. I don't see this as a good thing, in fact it feels kind of unnatural and I've wondered if it could be triggered by my meds, but even if it were, they're working so well helping me cope with the anxiety and sleep issues that I think I'd rather keep them and work the anger out emotionally. Over break I'm going to see my old therapist again, who helped me a lot when I was younger and had some serious anger problems. Probably she can help me find strategies to recognise when I'm irrationally upset, or more hostile than the situation warrants, and calm myself down, or at least get myself out of the situation until I'm calm. For years, I had gotten really good with that, same as I had emetophobia under control enough that it didn't really impact my day-to-day life, and now it does.
I'm still annoyed about the essay thing, though. I mean, I know academic probation isn't like an excuse to slack off and get people to help you with everything, and I wasn't even on it because I couldn't keep up academically. (I still consider my problems to be a legitimate chronic illness, which I didn't even quite accept until I found myself having physical anxiety reactions - pounding heart, sweating, nausea - and never figuring out what was causing them. They seem to just happen sometimes, or to be triggered by things that I don't particularly associate with anxiety but they just caused it now.) Still, if a student comes to a teacher saying, "I've been totally unable to write your essay, because the topic seems so all-encompassing to me that I keep writing myself into corners. What should I do?" that that would be a legitimate request for help, not something to write off as slacking or hysteria. I can respect that she didn't have time to hash it out with me after class, but there are a zillion things she could have done - scheduled a meeting for later in the week, asked me to bring her some of the drafts where I had found myself in a corner, asked a student who had written good papers for her, or another student with similar problems, if they would mind going over it with me - even just recommending me the Writer's Block would have been more helpful than just threatening my grade. Meg is usually cool, too, which is why I'm disappointed both that I didn't feel heard in class and also about this paper shit.
Current Mood: dirty in the literal sense
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03:15 pm
Jeez I just basically got told by my feminism class that if I didn't define myself by my (empowered, liberated) sexuality I was displaying my immense privilege and shouldn't try to derail the discussion about how we can define ourselves by a better sexuality. And Meg accused me of trying to walk around in a burka. And then I flipped out and told everyone that I do the fucking sex-pos shit, I know about my female body, I can masturbate to orgasm, now can I stop masturbating to orgasm for five minutes and like read a book or something, or have a hobby? And meg told me to calm down already.
I'm not trying to deny that I'm sexual, because I'm human and human beings are. But I am not A SEXUAL BEING!!!!1! I'm someone's daughter, I'm someone's sister. I like to sew historical clothing and my own designs. I'm phobic of throwing up, and of sickness in general. I'm struggling to reconcile sympathies with both libertarianism and structuralism. I'm in college, but I can't wait until I can get out to live and work on my own. I like to watch science-fiction and fantasy, and to listen to Japanese pop music, power metal, and opera. I cry easily but I laugh uproariously. I'm willing to argue to the end if patriarchy tells me that these traits, the one's I've picked to define myself, are less important than the fact that I have tits and a vagina and look ok in a lacy bikini. But I'm also willing to argue with feminism if they tell me that this definition of myself is secondary that I can have orgasms. I've known about the female orgasm for years now, people. It's great. Everyone should try it. But it's, at most, a part of me. It's not who I am. It doesn't define my experience. It's pretty sad, to think that it would.
And then Meg told me she couldn't help me with writing my paper, the one that I've spent eight hours on and couldn't finish, but that she was giving me a bad midterm grade and I had better get it in right now. What the hell is academic probation good for if they're just going to threaten you more, and not help you? It's like those clips on America's Funniest Home Videos where there's like a baby being repeatedly jabbed in the ass by a goose and screaming, and you realise that there's an adult behind the camera, but they're just sitting there filming instead of taking the baby away from the goddamn goose already.
Current Mood: drained
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February 28th, 2007
10:23 pm
Mmm, I just made soft pretzels for the first time, and they are sooo good. I'm going to make some more as soon as we finish this batch, but with minced onions and garlic on top. Mmmmmm.
In stupider news, I was at Hospice today, and there was another Marlboro student there. We don't know each other real well, but we were chatting while we were browsing near each other. I held up to myself a pair of hot pink corduroys which happened to be a kids XL, and said that I bet I could wear these. She replied "That's what you get for being a shrimp. Bitch." Then she laughed like a normal person and went on shopping, and I made a hasty exit. Why is it a funny joke to call me a bitch because I'm small? My body still doesn't have the Beauty Myth Approved: Get Out of Criticism Free card, just ask the chick who told me to get implants in freshman year. But apparently, because I'm the size of a pubescent child, outright insults based on my body are no longer supposed to insult me, I'm supposed to find them funny, or at least laugh awkwardly along and chalk it up to the dues I pay for being closer than most to the coveted Patriarchy Stamp of Approval. Bull. Shit. Outright curse words from people you barely know are still hurtful, even when you're skinny. I wish I'd cursed her out right back. I shouldn't feel like I have to flee the store because someone calls me a bitch.
Current Mood: annoyed
Current Music: Iron Maiden - Powerslave
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