I took a walk around my neighborhood this morning, and a dude in a rickety van beeped his horn at me from behind.
1. Gentlemen? This practice is disgusting and not at all flattering.
2. Aside from my chest, I’ve been about the same size since I was 13 years old. I have on jeans, sneakers, and a giant hoodie. Looking just at the back of my body, I could easily be a fat child. Maybe don’t honk at fat children from a rickety van?
People are so gross.
If my personal Facebook had a “You’re approaching Creepy Creeperson” button, I would’ve used it four times already this week.
Maybe also a “You totally missed the joke” button, and a “Hey, my dad can see your comments — can you stop being a fucking perv?” button.
But as it stands, I guess it’s just necessary to do a friends list purge and create some filters. Or maybe just New Year’s resolve to spend less time on my personal Facebook.
There are exactly 10 people I should be allowed to talk to during my period. I’m calling a moratorium on dealing with the rest of humanity.
So let it be written.
Right, then. So. Permission to hate everyone and everything?
New Zealand Teen Rape Club Is The Worst Thing You’ll Read About Today
So. Over the weekend, I found out a married male Facebook acquaintance had taken one of my (very innocent) Facebook photos without my consent and used it as his profile pic on a porn site. It’s likely been there at least since February. His soon-to-be-ex-wife called to tell me.
Two things:
1. I haven’t been my most demure in the past year. So I was frankly relieved it was just a photo of me in a tank top rather than, say, the photo of my naked back down to the curve of my hip I’d sent to New Lad, or similar pics I’ve sent to others that could’ve made it online. (I’m the first to admit my judgment hasn’t been great this year as far as sexting.)
2. Other friends are involved in worse aspects of this story, so I know I’m overreacting, and that this feeling will pass. But for now… I rarely feel dirty in a BAD way, and I can’t say I’m a fan. When some random dude scanned my body up and down at the coffee shop today, I wanted to crawl into some oversized sweats and hide.
Bonus: I don’t know if my Porn Pal resized my photo just to fit the site’s parameters, or to make me look thinner, but it was definitely stretched. So it’s possible I’m too fat for porn fiends. SUPER.
Via XOJane.com: Hey Total Strangers, Please Don’t Feel Entitled to Touch my Pregnant Tummy.
A very small part of the reason I don’t want to have children is a fear I couldn’t survive 9 hormone-saturated months without physically assaulting strangers who touch me or give me unsolicited advice about childbirth. The only thing worse than people invading my barren uterus would probably be people intruding when there’s an occupant.
I can’t fall asleep if the person I’ve just fucked senseless is still touching me, even to cuddle. Don’t think I won’t cunt-punt a stranger for invading my dance space.
“No one should be spoken to or about the way West has been in the past week. No one.
“We can argue for days about whether rape can or should be joked about, whether it is more or less unspeakable than infanticide or hate crimes or pedophilia or any other type of horrific act. But let the conversation be bigger than that. Don’t just ask if rape can be funny. Ask why a woman’s body is the go-to target for the majority of internet conversation and criticism. Ask why that body is the go-to cause for a complete dismissal of opinion and violence is the go-to threat when a woman is deemed ‘wrong’ on the internet.”
I actually do think you can craft funny jokes about anything if you’re smart about it. George Carlin and Louis CK are great examples. And I’m not a fan of Jim Norton, but he made some great points during their debate, as did she. But the reactions this woman is getting are not well-crafted, or funny, or intelligent — they’re disgusting.
Smug Singleton 