Friday, May 30, 2008

"Oh, billions of dollars! Is there no dispute you can't settle?"

Jon Stewart says it all:

Hat tip: PunkAss Blog.

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Tuesday, May 27, 2008

I hope you all enjoyed your long weekend, 'cause the freaks are back in full force

Someone please explain to me what kind of person googles "picture of girls with no clothes on and naked with breast transplant."

First of all, if someone has no clothes on, that is the definition of naked, stupid.

Also, why in god's name would someone who had searched for that wind up at my blog?!

It's too early in the week for this. Pretty please, go crawl back under the rock that must be your home.

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Monday, May 19, 2008

If you saw me in the morning, I'm sure you'd change your mind.

Once again, I must bemoan the large numbers of men who send out pitiful/begging/"neg" emails to women in order to get any kind of response. I received this today:

You seem too flawless for me, but I thought I'd say 'hi' anyway.

Seriously, this is one of the stupidest emails I've ever gotten, and I got an email not long ago from a complete stranger asking whether I take it up the ass. What is this guy getting at? Whether he really thinks I'm out of his league, or is just being sarcastic, this email is a bonehead move. The only response this guy gets is deletion.

As per my usual, there's a different suitor who can top him:
You are like a goddess out of Norse Mythology, but I am the feckless sort inveighed against your message.

OH FOR GOD'S SAKE. Is that supposed to sound smart and cultured? It sounds like it was written by a mouthbreather with no social skills. There's nothing more appealing to a woman than a feckless man who's mistaken her for a Valkyrie! Awesome.

Sigh.

All right, men out there in dating cyberspace - you asked for it. You've reduced me to writing a form letter!

Dear Bepenised Online Daters:
If you dig a chick, email her and tell her so. Better yet, tell her why, and make sure that your explanation does NOT include "U R HOT" or "You're too good for me" or "You remind me of a mythical creature from World of Warcraft." Refer to specific hobbies/quirks/favorite movies in her profile to show that you might have something in common, then ask her if she'd like to correspond. Okay?! It really is that simple. If you sound like a wet dishrag in your email, you're probably even worse in person. Women know this, and you will not get a response. No 500 word novels about your philosophy on life, either - just invite the woman you're interested in to browse your profile. Another thing - it sounds obvious, but fill out your profile. If every section in your profile is blank, or says "ask me," there's nothing for a woman to react to. She will not "ask you," because a dude who leaves his profile blank except for the bare basics is (a) lazy, (b) shady, or (c) very hesitant about online dating. None of those options are appealing. We all hate filling out online profiles, but it's part of the gig. Get a good girlfriend to help you, if you have trouble verbalizing what you're looking for. If you can't make the effort, or are weirded out by these sites, there is nothing wrong with you. Just get off the dating sites and try Meetup.com.

Which brings me to my last beef - if you just want to hit it, you should be on Craigslist's casual encounters.

Understand that even if you act right, you may not get a response quickly, or at all. Do not take it to heart. Online dating is a feeding frenzy - a total numbers game. A woman who is basically pretty and in decent shape (I do put myself in that category), nothing spectacular, not a "10", will still receive hundreds of emails after putting up a profile.

MAN UP. In other words, be direct and friendly. Act like a tool before you've even been face to face with a woman, and chances are you'll wind up sitting at home every night, moaning about how "bitches never go for the nice guys."

Do you think it's easier for women? It isn't. We get propositioned, sent naked pictures (not anywhere near as thrilling as it sounds - trust), spoken to with disrespect (like the time a friend of mine was informed as to which end her breasts fell on the 1-10 scale), upbraided for not responding promptly enough (as if we are children without lives of our own to manage). This all happens before we even meet a guy face to face, and those of us who are smart learn to use such instances to weed out the losers and avoid bad dates. If you are not one of those guys, make an effort not to sound like one.

Keep it real, and you might find something real.

Cheers,
Ginger

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The shortest relationship of my life

Hello all.
I spent the weekend in San Fransisco with my girl Tabitha...I have a story, but am so behind at work right now that I can't get into it. I got into LAX at 1am as it is, and am struggling to both stay awake and make my deadline!

Today, I had this little gem in my inbox:

After a rigorously brief overview of your profile, I have married and divorced you in my mind. Thanks for all the fantastic memories. You'll always have a special place in my heart!

Your ex-hubby,
Paul

Yeah, it's Monday, all right.

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Monday, May 12, 2008

My superhero

I really should have posted this on Sunday (in honor of Mother's Day), but damn, have I been a sick puppy. Now that I am feeling human, here is my late Mother's Day dedication to Julie (hi Mom), who passed away eight years ago. She told me this story when I was a teenager.

First of all, Julia Mary was not an ordinary woman. She was the type of woman who said, "I'm going to marry that guy," at age 16 after only her second date with my father, and got him. She declared that she was having "two daughters, five years apart," before even trying to get pregnant, and did exactly that. She had the sixth sense; I believe it, although I feel silly even typing it. Her dreams were premonitions and she could read people in seconds. She's also the main reason that I've never felt a disconnect between femininity and strength; she ran an immaculate household, worked part time and raised two kids while nursing an almost pathological lipstick obsession. When I was little, I would walk up and down the upstairs hallway to get glimpses of her putting her hair in hot rollers, curling her eyelashes or applying perfume. My mother never had a hair out of place, but you did not mess with that woman. She laughed loud and often, but she never minced words. She knew how to get what she wanted, and woe betide you if you were the one who blocked her way.

Now for the story: apparently, when she was pregnant with me, she started bleeding towards the end of her first trimester. I was her first baby, and she was bleeding pretty badly. She wound up in the hospital, sobbing as her doctor told her that she would most likely lose me. Miscarriages are very common during first pregnancies, particularly during the first trimester.

My dad tried to comfort her. "Jule, it's not the end of the world. We can have another baby," he said.

My mother wouldn't hear it. "I want this one," she declared (repeatedly) to everyone who would listen.

Somehow, through a divine act or my mother's sheer determination, the bleeding stopped. Her doctor told her that he'd give her an ultrasound after letting her rest up for a bit. He cautioned her not to be too optimistic, as he was fairly certain that she had miscarried. Mom still wouldn't hear it; she was having her baby, this baby.

She was right; the ultrasound proved I was still in there, and comfy too, thanks very much. The rest of the pregnancy was fine, as I recall - until the labor, which came two weeks late. Sorry about that, Mom. I'm still very hard to move once I've gotten comfortable.

Thanks, Julie, wherever you are, for willing me into existence (yes, Dad had plenty to do with it, but I'm saving that post for June). Thanks for believing that I was irreplaceable, way before you could have had any idea what I would become. Thanks for reminding me of my prenatal tenacity in moments when I felt low. Thanks to you, I'm also a dab hand with an eyelash curler.

Most of all, thanks for pumping your steely determination directly into my DNA that day. It has come in very handy many times since then.

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I'm having a movement moment

I promise, I have a real post coming soon. In the meantime, though, this is hilarious:

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Thursday, May 08, 2008

"I'm not here to be anyone's babysitter."

Dear readers, Yours Truly feels like death warmed over. I think that after my move and hectic work schedule, my body just said, "Enough, woman. I'm not cooperating anymore." I'm just trying to get through the day.

In lieu of a new post, check out this wonderful musing on the older woman/younger man dynamic that I've had to deal with so often lately.

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Wednesday, May 07, 2008

"Why do you write strong female characters?"



Watch it, the whole way through.

Hat tip: Echidne.

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Tuesday, May 06, 2008

Smoke 'em if you got 'em

"Love is a cigar we willingly smoke," writes a man who was interested in my profile.

Problem is, I'm allergic.

So, I guess that's not going to work.

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A man by any other name

Hello, people. Sorry I've been gone a few days; I moved on Saturday, and have been busy getting settled, getting my cable and internet set up, you know the drill.

In lieu of a new post, I'd like to turn your attention to a tradition-defying couple in my current state of residence.

UPDATE: Antigone has a follow up on this subject.

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Thursday, May 01, 2008

The military continues to be stupid

Pfc. Monica Brown became only the second woman since WWII to receive the Silver Star, for bravery under fire.

For her exemplary service, she was pulled from combat. That makes a lot of sense!

"I got pulled" by higher-ups, she said, because her presence as "a female in a combat arms unit" had attracted attention.

I love that. Attention for what? Bravery? Or bravery while female? Why is that a problem? Were they afraid she was makin' the boys look bad? Do they think Brown's male peers wish that they'd had their lives saved by a man that day? Do you really think they care?
President Bush has forcefully backed the Army's restrictions, asserting in a January 2005 interview with the Washington Times that there should be "no women in combat." Since her heroic actions, however, Brown was promoted to specialist and has been congratulated by Cheney in Afghanistan, praised in a meeting with Bush at a NATO summit in Romania, and offered a job on the White House staff.

Yeah, that's just what she needs - to go work for the idiot who thinks she can't handle combat (which she has already handled) because she has a vagina.

To be fair, this is the work of Teh Dubya, against the wishes of his own commanders:
Military officers in the field and independent experts have said it is both infeasible and contrary to the Army's own warfighting doctrine to prevent women from serving in proximity to – or together with – all-male combat units in today's war zones. They contend that if the goal of the policy is to protect women from capture or bodily harm, it cannot be done in the scramble of conflicts such as those in the Middle East.

Listen to the praise this medic has received from her superiors and peers:
No sooner were they in the ditch that insurgents began firing mortars. Brown threw her body over Smith, shielding him as more than a dozen rounds hit nearby. The ammunition inside the burning Humvee then started exploding, including 60mm mortars, 40mm grenade rounds and rifle ammunition. Again, Brown lay over the wounded.

Robbins, the platoon leader, repositioned his Humvee near the injured and was incredulous that Brown had survived. "I was surprised I didn't get killed and she'd been over there for 10, 15 minutes longer," he recalled.

"There was small arms coming in from two different machine-gun positions, mortars falling . . . a burning Humvee with 16 mortar rounds in it, chunks of aluminum the size of softballs flying all around," said Robbins, of Portsmouth, R.I. "It was about as hairy as it gets."

Across Afghanistan, female medics such as Brown are regularly sent to serve with combat units. "The real catch was to have a female medic out there because of the cultural sensitivities and the flexibility that gave commanders," said Maj. Paul Narowski, the executive officer of Brown's battalion. "It is absolutely not about gender in terms of how well they will do," he said, adding that he does not know why Brown was pulled out.

Silly, silly Major. Because she's a baby machine, and that's all that matters.

DUH.
Hat tip: Jezebel.

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Good sportsmanship


This is my warm fuzzy of the day.

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Freak extraordinaire - "Should I call the police?!" edition

Somebody found my blog by Googling "i sniff my 9 year old panties".

BARF.

Does this person sniff their own panties, which are 9 years old and crusty? Or is this person sniffing a 9 year old's panties?!

No matter how you slice it, it just comes up wrong.

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Beware the gentleman who acts like a gentleman.

Readers, it's bad enough that ladies such as myself have to constantly dodge rude men. These days, it would seem that a few shady dudes have realized that, since sleazy doesn't work, they might lure in a few unsuspecting females with a polite facade. This tactic has worked on Yours Truly once before. More than once, actually. It's sad to say, but although I still hold out hope that a polite-sounding man is exactly that, I now have a cynical streak, and I am rarely proven wrong.

Case in point:

Yesterday I received this unusually polite email. It almost sounds like pleading, doesn't it?
Hi Ginger, I'd really like to get to know you. I'm hoping you'll read my short profile and let me know if you'd be at all interested in knowing me a bit better too. I hope you do. We could talk a bit, exchange pics, ideas, and see where that takes us. No stress, drama, lies, or expectations. Just nice words between nice people. Does that sound reasonable? I would love to hear back from you. You have nothing to lose, and you just might like who and what you find. Thanks for your time and consideration. If I don't hear back from you, I do wish you nothing but the best.

"Thanks for your time and consideration?" There's something I never hear; actually, it's the kind of thing you'd put on a cover letter. I guess that's appropriate, since the guy was really trying to sell himself. It was so polite as to be shady. Isn't it horrible that I think this way now? I don't want to, but it's a defense mechanism.

Well, I can benefit from the anonymity of the internet just like any of the crazy dudes who email me. I clicked his profile, which read:
I am an attractive and yes, married man with two wonderful children. Long story, but, I'd love to fill you in. I'm really looking for that one special woman that I can spend my free time with. All I do know is that there has to be more to life than what I am experiencing right now. Please contact me if you'd be at all interested. Who knows, you might be surprised.

Oh, honey. Nothing surprises me any more.

I'm really looking for that one special woman that I can spend my free time with.

The time you should be spending with your two wonderful kids?

Who knows what this guy's story is, and who cares. This is gross! You know, it's married people who've done the best job at keeping me from getting married. Now, I'm sure some of y'all are happily married, but I'm not talking about you peeps.

At least he was upfront about being married before we went out. I haven't always been so lucky!

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