Okay, so since this blog is mostly about stuff that irritates me, I figured, in light of the incoming holiday season, I would write about a few things I really enjoy.
1. Being with my family. I know it sounds kind of dumb, but your family really is the people who understand you the best. You can be in a bad mood around them, get in fights, even be kind of mean to each other, and at the end of the day, everyone still loves each other. I know that sounds kind of fatalist, but seriously. Having siblings is like having built in friends: you already understand each other without having to try. You can still be childlike and silly with your siblings, even into young adulthood (though this might be because my youngest brother is still 14). Nothing is better than being around your family at Christmastime.
2. My dog. I was always a cat person, but when my parents brought home a fluffy white and brown puppy the summer after my freshman year of college, I feel completely and utterly in love. With a dog. But whenever I come home from school he’s there to greet me, his feather duster tail swishing back and forth, a toy in his mouth to give me as a token of his affection. He’ll cuddle up with you on the couch, his head in your lap. He loves to snuggle and be petted (I’m unsure about the tense usage there), loves to go on walks, loves to play fetch and tug of war. He’s the best dog in the world, unconditionally loving and sweet as can be.
3. Being with my friends. Again, a freaking cliché, but there’s nothing like a great night out with some friends, be it your high school buddies, your summer friends or your college pals, spending time with people that make you laugh is the very best medicine for anything that might be wrong. Much like being with your siblings, if you can be honest and silly with your friends, you can’t do any better than that.
UGH enough being nice. Up next: 10 worst things about the holidays. Mwahaha!
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
What Men Want: Starring Mel Gibson and Helen Hunt
When I was in the second grade, all I wanted for Christmas was a Drew Bledsoe official New England Patriots jersey. I was (and still am) a huge Pats fan, and I just thought there was nothing cooler, more cunning or stylish than that bright blue jersey, double ones on the back, Bledsoe across the shoulder blades. Christmas morning came, and to the delight of my eight year old heart, Santa had wrapped up my Bledsoe jersey in green paper and tucked it under the tree.
I was So. Excited. to wear my jersey to school, I seriously thought I was the cats pajamas. UNTIL. In the cafeteria that day, a boy in my class (who will remain nameless, though I can assure everyone that he, despite being incredibly popular in high school, is going nowhere fast) shouted for everyone to hear: I didn’t know Drew Bledsoe was a GIRL!!!!
Laughter ensued.
I had NEVER been that embarrassed before, and I never wore the jersey to school again.
That was the first time I let what a guy said have and effect on what I thought, but it certainly wasn’t the last. Why is what men say so important? We are taught to be independent, intelligent women who have thoughts of their own, and yet I find myself actually caring about and taking to heart what men think. For example: I have long hair, 14 or 15 inches root to tip, and this summer I thought seriously about cutting it off. I thought there would be nothing better that a cute, professional bob to take with me into senior year. Then, in late August, I met a guy in a bar who told me that my hair was gorgeous and that I should never cut it. So I didn’t. Hello, paging Jim Bob Duggar? We have a candidate for your family.
It doesn’t end there. Every Thursday, the seniors and juniors of my school frequent a certain bar in downtown Worcester. Large amounts of dollar drafts and vodka cran with soda and lime are consumed. I love the place, but one of the best parts is they actually let you get up on the bar and dance if you want, which is awesome when you’re just drunk enough. Except, I don’t dance on the bar. Ever. Even when I’m plastered. The reason is that an older guy who was on the ski team my sophomore year told a story once where a girl was dancing on the bar, and while the friend she was next to was totally hot, this other chick had thunder thighs. AND IT WAS DISGUSTING. Girls, he told us, never, ever have thunder thighs. Welp, I lost, because I have big thighs. Did I mention that no one where I go to school is fat? Our campus is carved into a mountain; it’s practically impossible to be obese. So this thunder thigh girl was probably not overweight, was just blessed (or cursed), like me, with large, albeit muscular, thighs. Give me a break! I play rugby! But no one wants to see those dancing on a bar. In fact, if you don’t look like you belong in Coyote Ugly, don’t even entertain the idea. I’m scarred. Can’t do it for fear some guy will look up on that bar and go UGH! THUNDER THIGHS! GET HER OFF THE BAR!
But in the end, I still want to know why, why, why women do (or don’t do) things just because of what men might think. How did I, or any woman of my generation become a victim to this?
:::UPDATE:::
I recently cut my hair--eight whole inches! ALSO, and perhaps more importantly, a friend of mine convinced me to get on the bar. And I did. And it was amazing. Go me!
I was So. Excited. to wear my jersey to school, I seriously thought I was the cats pajamas. UNTIL. In the cafeteria that day, a boy in my class (who will remain nameless, though I can assure everyone that he, despite being incredibly popular in high school, is going nowhere fast) shouted for everyone to hear: I didn’t know Drew Bledsoe was a GIRL!!!!
Laughter ensued.
I had NEVER been that embarrassed before, and I never wore the jersey to school again.
That was the first time I let what a guy said have and effect on what I thought, but it certainly wasn’t the last. Why is what men say so important? We are taught to be independent, intelligent women who have thoughts of their own, and yet I find myself actually caring about and taking to heart what men think. For example: I have long hair, 14 or 15 inches root to tip, and this summer I thought seriously about cutting it off. I thought there would be nothing better that a cute, professional bob to take with me into senior year. Then, in late August, I met a guy in a bar who told me that my hair was gorgeous and that I should never cut it. So I didn’t. Hello, paging Jim Bob Duggar? We have a candidate for your family.
It doesn’t end there. Every Thursday, the seniors and juniors of my school frequent a certain bar in downtown Worcester. Large amounts of dollar drafts and vodka cran with soda and lime are consumed. I love the place, but one of the best parts is they actually let you get up on the bar and dance if you want, which is awesome when you’re just drunk enough. Except, I don’t dance on the bar. Ever. Even when I’m plastered. The reason is that an older guy who was on the ski team my sophomore year told a story once where a girl was dancing on the bar, and while the friend she was next to was totally hot, this other chick had thunder thighs. AND IT WAS DISGUSTING. Girls, he told us, never, ever have thunder thighs. Welp, I lost, because I have big thighs. Did I mention that no one where I go to school is fat? Our campus is carved into a mountain; it’s practically impossible to be obese. So this thunder thigh girl was probably not overweight, was just blessed (or cursed), like me, with large, albeit muscular, thighs. Give me a break! I play rugby! But no one wants to see those dancing on a bar. In fact, if you don’t look like you belong in Coyote Ugly, don’t even entertain the idea. I’m scarred. Can’t do it for fear some guy will look up on that bar and go UGH! THUNDER THIGHS! GET HER OFF THE BAR!
But in the end, I still want to know why, why, why women do (or don’t do) things just because of what men might think. How did I, or any woman of my generation become a victim to this?
:::UPDATE:::
I recently cut my hair--eight whole inches! ALSO, and perhaps more importantly, a friend of mine convinced me to get on the bar. And I did. And it was amazing. Go me!
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Hollywood’s double standard
A few weeks ago one of my roommates and I decided to watch a movie with a couple of guy friends that live downstairs from us. Their movie of choice was Superbad. Now, I appreciate Superbad. I think it’s funny and, at times, clever, albeit completely unrealistic. But then, most movies are unrealistic, and ill tell you one of the reasons why:
The misogyny of Hollywood is rampant.
That’s right, I said it. Hollywood hates women.
Take, for example, Judd Apatow movies. The guy is great, and I find all of his movies to be completely hilarious. HOWEVER, the male leads in films like Superbad and Knocked Up are, while funny, not as good looking as the female leads. Seriously, Seth Rogen ending up with Katherine Heigl? Get Real. In real life, kids that look like Evan (Michael Cera) and Seth (Jonah Hill) don’t end up with girls that look like tween supermodels (insert Jules and Becca). Evan and Seth are weirdoes, or at leas they are made out to be, while Jules and her friends are made out to be the most popular girls in school. I mean, lets be honest, Seth had a problem with drawing penises, which is funny, but that’s not something people in high school would forget about. I don’t know about you, but where I went to high school, the ’popular ’ girls would never have looked twice at the boys who were considered freaks. Yet here in Hollywood we have the overweight, poorly dressed, foul mouthed, penis drawing and fairly not good looking character of Seth who, in the end, gets the popular, pretty, righteous (she ’doesn’t like to drink’) character of Jules. Its complete crap!
Now, let’s turn the tables. What does Hollywood do when the girls are made out to be the weirdos who dress unfashionably and have bad hair? They give them a makeover and BOOM: popularity ensues. Let’s take two examples for this: the Princess Diaries starring Anne Hathaway, and the Breakfast Club, our character of example being played by actress Ally Sheedy. Anne Hathaway is a frizzy haired, retainer wearing eccentric in the Princess Diaries. She dreams of finding love, but the popular kids look at her as a pariah. But, with a stroke of hereditary luck, she finds out she is royalty. Her queen grandmother and the royal assistants pluck her eyebrows, blow out her hair, put a little makeup on her, give her a designer backpack. Voila! Boys notice her! Her longtime crush kisses her! She gets everything she ever wanted! Ally Sheedy in the Breakfast Club is an introvert, also with bad hair and clothing without friends. But just a little makeover action from Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevezs popular jock character falls for her. Did we forget that these girls still have the same personalities? Whatever made them freaks before is still there! The guys they like would never have fallen for them before, but now that they look pretty, the guys seem to change their minds. Michael Cera and Jonah Hill didn’t have makeovers that impressed Becca and Jules. I say again: absolute crap. In order for a girl to be appreciated by the object of her affection, she must change the way she looks because, according to Hollywood, THAT IS ALL MEN CARE ABOUT. Guys just have to prove that they are funny, and the girl is putty in their hands.
What this all does is boost male egos. Guys that aren’t that good looking always think they can do better that a girl that might not be a 10. All guys think they deserve 10s. THEY DON’T. What will it take for people to stop being so superficial? I’m not saying that men take all of their hints about women from the movies; I don’t think that all men are complete idiots (lets face it, women are idiots too), but movies like the ones I have mention simply don’t do anything to help the cause. It seems, to me, that women in Hollywood are often treated as objects. It’s wrong.
The misogyny of Hollywood is rampant.
That’s right, I said it. Hollywood hates women.
Take, for example, Judd Apatow movies. The guy is great, and I find all of his movies to be completely hilarious. HOWEVER, the male leads in films like Superbad and Knocked Up are, while funny, not as good looking as the female leads. Seriously, Seth Rogen ending up with Katherine Heigl? Get Real. In real life, kids that look like Evan (Michael Cera) and Seth (Jonah Hill) don’t end up with girls that look like tween supermodels (insert Jules and Becca). Evan and Seth are weirdoes, or at leas they are made out to be, while Jules and her friends are made out to be the most popular girls in school. I mean, lets be honest, Seth had a problem with drawing penises, which is funny, but that’s not something people in high school would forget about. I don’t know about you, but where I went to high school, the ’popular ’ girls would never have looked twice at the boys who were considered freaks. Yet here in Hollywood we have the overweight, poorly dressed, foul mouthed, penis drawing and fairly not good looking character of Seth who, in the end, gets the popular, pretty, righteous (she ’doesn’t like to drink’) character of Jules. Its complete crap!
Now, let’s turn the tables. What does Hollywood do when the girls are made out to be the weirdos who dress unfashionably and have bad hair? They give them a makeover and BOOM: popularity ensues. Let’s take two examples for this: the Princess Diaries starring Anne Hathaway, and the Breakfast Club, our character of example being played by actress Ally Sheedy. Anne Hathaway is a frizzy haired, retainer wearing eccentric in the Princess Diaries. She dreams of finding love, but the popular kids look at her as a pariah. But, with a stroke of hereditary luck, she finds out she is royalty. Her queen grandmother and the royal assistants pluck her eyebrows, blow out her hair, put a little makeup on her, give her a designer backpack. Voila! Boys notice her! Her longtime crush kisses her! She gets everything she ever wanted! Ally Sheedy in the Breakfast Club is an introvert, also with bad hair and clothing without friends. But just a little makeover action from Molly Ringwald and Emilio Estevezs popular jock character falls for her. Did we forget that these girls still have the same personalities? Whatever made them freaks before is still there! The guys they like would never have fallen for them before, but now that they look pretty, the guys seem to change their minds. Michael Cera and Jonah Hill didn’t have makeovers that impressed Becca and Jules. I say again: absolute crap. In order for a girl to be appreciated by the object of her affection, she must change the way she looks because, according to Hollywood, THAT IS ALL MEN CARE ABOUT. Guys just have to prove that they are funny, and the girl is putty in their hands.
What this all does is boost male egos. Guys that aren’t that good looking always think they can do better that a girl that might not be a 10. All guys think they deserve 10s. THEY DON’T. What will it take for people to stop being so superficial? I’m not saying that men take all of their hints about women from the movies; I don’t think that all men are complete idiots (lets face it, women are idiots too), but movies like the ones I have mention simply don’t do anything to help the cause. It seems, to me, that women in Hollywood are often treated as objects. It’s wrong.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Sunday, November 8, 2009
The Duggars
If there is one reality TV family that I simply cannot stand, it is the Duggar clan. Never mind the superficial Kardashians, the fame-obsessed, warring Jon and Kate Gosselins, or even the pathetic Lamas family (I mean, what are they even famous for? I watched approximately half of one episode and my IQ dropped significantly). The Duggars take the cake. People love to watch them for their conservative Christian values, their seemingly endless happiness, and their aaa-dorable kids who all have names that start with the letter J (patriarchic enough? You can’t tell me that the whole J thing didn’t happen because the dad’s name is Jim-Bob). But these are precisely the things that freak me out about the Duggars. First of all, what woman in her right mind would want to be pregnant for the better part of two decades and give birth to 18 children in 16 pregnancies? Michelle’s vajayjay (and uterus, if she has had c-sections) must be completely wrecked. Talk about stretch marks! How do Michelle and Jim-Bob even have sex? It must be the epitome of throwing a hot dog down a hallway. But forget about those logistics (because obviously they have it pretty figured out), how does a parent of 18 know any of their children intimately? It’s basically the older ones raising the younger ones. Michelle doesn’t have time, I’m sure, to care for them all herself, though she creepily makes it seem like it’s no big deal. That serene look on her face sends shivers down my spine. She doesn’t have an opinion that’s her own (just watch the show closely— everything between Michelle and Jim-Bob is ’we,’ but Jim-Bob does most of the talking). He comes off as handsome and kind, the kind of father everyone wants. But the girls are mandated to wear their hair long and wear high collared dresses, and I never see him playing ball with his boys, but rather they do ’activities ’ that seemingly only include chores. On the episode of Say Yes to the Dress that featured the Duggars, Michelle was not allowed to wear a strapless gown, she ’needed’ (granted, her words) to wear something that covered her chest up to her neck and covered her shoulders.
This is the sick display of Jim-Bob Duggar knocking up his wife as many times as possible and teaching his kids that it’s God’s will that they do the same. You know what’s going to happen? Middle America, evangelical and God-fearing, will simply keep reproducing without restraint until they choke out people who actually have a conscience about what they can afford (without the help of TLC) and their impact on this Earth. There was one episode I happened to watch where the Duggars were visited by another family who happen to also have an exurbanite amount of children. One of the teenage sons of the other large family told the camera (forgive me for paraphrasing) that he would love to have just as many children as his parents. Sounds to me like he just wants to prove his manhood. If this is America’s future, I’m frightened. Even Europeans are fascinated: in another episode, the family is followed by a French camera crew filming for a documentary. One of the Duggar girls mused that maybe people in France wanted to have extremely large families as well, and wanted to see how it was done. The filmmaker, however, commented that something like this could ’only happen in America’ and that Europeans would be fascinated. Basically he was saying that the Duggars were a spectacle to behold. I can only hope that the rest of the world knows that not all of America is as warped as the Duggars.
Oh and, btw, Michelle’s preggers again. Number nineteen.
I’ll end with my favorite Jim-Bob-ism (and again, forgive me for paraphrasing): ’Kids that are homeschooled actually have more of an opportunity to meet other kids their age, because we go to things like homeschool conferences a few times a year. ’ Of course! I forgot that kids that actually GO TO SCHOOL never have friends outside of their siblings. Keep taking your happy pills, Jim-Bob.
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