excerpts.

An excerpt from "The Smart Girl's Guide To Porn" that I really loved:

(on the subject of the question "Does porn degrade women?)

"Those who believe in porn's alleged degradation of women are making a lot of assumptions about the people in porn, specifically the women, and about the people viewing the imagery.

* The woman is ashamed of what she is doing -- or shoulde be.
* She isn't enjoying it, or women as a class can't and don't enjoy certain types of sex.
* She is sexually receptive and therefore less than human.
* The viewer is always male.
* The actress doesn't know the effect her image has -- that porn leads to real-life acts of rape, child abuse and degradation.
* Open sexual desire is shameful for all participants, on- and off-screen.

How can anyone possibly know how every viewer or participant feels, or sees him or herself as? The answer is that no one can. Each individual must be allowed to decide what is healthy and okay for him or her -- no one else can decide that for you, or for another person."


While I don't really like the way she concluded her thought, I love that she calls out the people who think of porn as degrading and debunks the myth.



***



And a couple of passages from "Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers":

"... anatomists came to occupy the same terrain, in the public's mind, as executioners. Worse, even, for dissection was though of, literally, as a punishment worse than death. Indeed, that -- not the support and assistance of anatomists -- was the authorities' main intent in making the bodies available for dissection. With so many relatively minor offenses punishable by death, the legal bodies felt the need to tack on added horrors as deterrents against weighter crimes. If you stole a pig, you were hung [sic -- should actually be "hanged"]. If you killed a man, you were hanged and then dissected. (In the freshly minted United States of America, the punishable-by-dissection catergory was extended to include duelists, the death sentence clearly not posing much of a deterrent to the type of fellow who agrees to settle his differences by the dueling pistol.)
Double sentencing wasn't a new idea, but rather the latest variation on a theme. Before that, a murderer might be hanged and then drawn and quartered, wherein horses were tied to his limbs and spurred off in four directions, the resultant "quarters" being impaled on spikes and publicly displayed, as a colorful reminder to the citizenry of the ill-advisedness of crime. Dissection as a sentencing option for murderers was mandated, in 1752 Britain, as an alternative to postmortem gibbeting. Gibbeting -- though it hits the ear like a word for happy playground chatter or perhaps, at worst, the cleaning of small game birds -- is in fact a ghastly verb. To gibbet is to dip a corpse in tar and suspend it in a flat iron cage (the gibbet) in plain view of townsfolk while it rots and gets pecked apart by crows. A stroll through the square must have been a whole different plate of tamales back then."



"We are biology. We are reminded of this at the beginning and the end, at birth and at death. In between, we do what we can to forget."

criminal justice.

Serj Tankian has committed murder, and the victim's name is MUSIC!

As punishment for his crimes, I sentence Serj Tankian to stop making music for the REST OF HIS LIFE. Or maybe just mine. As long as I don't have to hear another goddamn note from that guy ever again.

OW MY EARS ARE BLEEDING AND IT'S NOT THE GOOD KIND.
I would honestly rather have some slowly pull my eyeballs out with a rusty ice cream scoop than listen to System of a Down, Serj Tankian's solo crap, or anything else he ever chooses to do ever again.

The only thing I have ever heard him do that sounded halfway decent was a cover of "Holiday in Cambodia" by the Dead Kennedys, and that's because there is no one else on the planet who has a voice annoying enough to replicate Jello Biafra's voice (but god I love Jello! props!).

You may resume your daily routine.

L

4 out of 5 morons agree.

OH NOES! THE GOLDEN COMPASS IS "TOO PLOT-HEAVY AND COMPLICATED"!!?!?!?!?!!

I guess not EVERY movie can be dumbed down for morons.



Ps.

that's entertainment!

I just heard this story on the radio about this band - whose name I won't bother mentioning because they suck hard - who, before they were signed, went to a stop on the Vans Warped Tour and set up a generator outside of the venue where the lineup was, and just started played their songs. Apparently a record company exec heard them and things snowballed from there.

Man, that's pretty cool, I have to say. If you're determined enough to go somewhere with your music, pulling gutsy moves like that is fucking awesome and more bands should do shit like this.
Hey, if you love your band enough and think you deserve to get a record deal, and if you love music enough, then why be bashful? Go all the way, pull out all the stops. Don't just be a pussy and play in shitty clubs on the weekends with all the same people watching you and expect something to happen for you. Make moves. Be grand. Don't be a wimp - create your own hype.

i just invented a drink:

It's called a Blue Berry Speedbanger!


1 1/2 shots of Smirnoff Raspberry vodka
1 shot blue curacao
Jolt Blue
crushed ice
garnish with a lemon



DELICIOUS.

thursday night insanity.

It's not even officially winter yet, and already I'm sick of coming home from work and it being dark out. Coming home to a dark, empty apartment every night is very depressing. And it makes me tired.
All day I have energy and vow that I'm going to clean on any given night, and then the second I get in the door, all that just goes away.
Maybe I need some more lights in here.

Hello, Seasonal Affective Disorder!!!

I think I'm going to pick up some St. John's Wort so that I can make it through this winter without killing myself.

Ha... ha?

What's up with me and the pills lately? I'm always gobbling ibuprofen but it's weird because all my life I have been totally against medication and all that jazz, except for the periods where a) I was on birth control pills, and b) I tried Wellbutrin for a year. And now I'm like "what's up doc, can we rock!? Gimme some migraine horse pills!" and I'm going to go back on BC pills next week, and now I'm gonna go mess around with St. John's Wort...?

Guess I'm lookin' for a quick fix quick fix quick fix chick tricks? nip slip:

I have to say, though... life seems a lot sunnier when I look at this:

how to kill a sunday afternoon.

Last night I was going to go to the big punk night at the Embassy with the Vapids and whatnot, but I was feeling terrible from the curry dinner I ate the day before, so I decided against going anywhere without a toilet I could comfortably sit on without worrying about catching aids.

So instead, Dave, Ryan and Cheri came over for some house-warming and we drank way too much booze and made each other pass out against my wall and video-taped it because we're tards.

thanks for the accolades.

1. Dear loud-talking guy on the bus:

Please shut up about conspiracy theories at 9:15 in the morning. No one is in the mood. Thanks.


2. Dear cold weather:

Thank you for your presence in the bedroom late at night, provoked really cozy naked body-hug-sleeping.


3. Dear Jesus lady who came to my door last night:

I appreciate you trying to save me, but I was trying to masturbate. But thanks for the blessing anyway!


4. Dear Payless Shoes:

Thank you for having one left of the PERFECT big grey purse.

a whopping punch.

Scenario:

I am perched on my stool, filling out the day's paperwork, payroll and checking Outlook Express for the next price change on dildos and butt plugs. All I can think is, "damn, I wish I weren't so broke this week because not having my morning Starbucks or Diet Rock Star (aka a humongous dosage of caffeine) is going to kill me."

As my eyes are starting to drift and my headache worsens from caffeine withdrawal, these two fairy godmothers dressed in blue came into the store and pulled a can of Red Bull out from their backpack, just for me. Seriously. Two Red Bull promo girls saved my whole day. They didn't even try to sell me anything or use annoying promo tricks. They just chatted with me for a second and handed to me the gift of life. Now I am all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and feeling good.

Wicked. That was the best treat ever.

Yeah yeah, consumerism and all that... fuck you, I was exhausted, and you weren't at my store selling me a bag of speed, so...


And to top off my day, I've been listening to "Where is my mind?" by the Pixies on repeat. Customer dissatisfaction be damned, that song is absolutely fucking magical. One of those heart-fluttering, on-the-verge-of-tears-but-why?, can't-help-but-smile-like-a-schoolgirl-with-a-brand-new-crush songs.
Lovely.

don't be such a flake.

Okay so, what the hell is up with Cadbury Flake bars? They are like the practical jokers of the candy-bar food group.

My friend Megan gave me one yesterday because I was in the Worst Mood Ever, and she thought chocolate might help. I didn't end up eating it last night, but I'm sitting here thinking "hmmm this chocolate bar might hit the spot right now." What the hell is up with these things? It's like a prank chocolate bar! No matter how carefully you bite into it, you're COVERED in flakes of chocolate! There's absolutely no avoiding the chocolate flake avalanche. And it's not like you don't know what you're getting into going in, because it says right on the wrapper "FLAKE."


Next April Fools I'm giving these suckers out like old pennies.