It's Official

Not having my own computer sucks a whole lotta' booty.

I'm going to have a friend of mine take a look at it, but he just got back from a long vacation so I don't want to thrust it at him 5 seconds after he gets home (I save that sentiment for my husband, thankyouverymuch).

I will say that I have been getting a lot more done around the house during the day without the distraction of the internet. Maybe this laptop death was a good thing.

Yesterday I started training to be a rape crisis volunteer. It was an all day training session, and I felt like someone had kicked me in the stomach by the time 4:30 rolled around. I'm not complaining. I kind of expected to feel emotionally exhausted by this venture.

I'm glad I finally got signed up to do this. It's something I thought about back when I was in college, but somehow never found the time to get it done. It's kind of sad that I didn't think I could fit it into my schedule then, but somehow have found the time now that I have a real adult life thing going on.

In a way, I am glad that I didn't volunteer back then. I think I was way too self-centered and lost to be of any help to anyone. Now that I have a few (OK, more than a few) years on me, I am more equipped to handle what I am about to do.

We live in a world where some men still feel it alright to use their inherent social stature over women for carnal gain. Where "no" can mean "maybe" or, sadly, "yes".

We live in a world where children, the elderly and the disabled are preyed upon as "easy targets" of sexual assault and rape.

We live in a world where young women are told that their worth is calculated in direct correlation to how men rate her desirability.

What does this say about us?

I know I can't save the world. Unfortunately, along with those "years of experience" I've racked up, I seem to have lost the genuine idealism I had as a young adult. However, I can do my part.

And it feels really good.

Fuck you Barbie

It wasn't enough that you gave the little me an unrealistic expectation of what I thought my breasts would eventually look like as an adult (large, perfectly perky and nipple-less)?

Now this? You stupid cunt.



Today is my daughter's sixth birthday. Happy Birthday Mina! I got her a birdhouse kit and a Barbie doll. Not just any Barbie either--a mermaid(?)/fairy Barbie with wings that flutter and a DVD game that is supposed to be easy to use. Whatever.

People have been buying Mina Barbie dolls for a few years now, and I'm just now beginning to get over the guilt of "selling out" to Feminism's Antichrist. I allow her not only play with them, but play with the wretched little hussies with her. I expect the ghost of Betty Friedan at my doorstep at any moment.

I thought I was getting Mina the perfect gift. She wants to have a Fairy-themed birthday party this year, so getting her this particular Barbie fit the bill. She opened her gifts up this morning, and I promised her that she could play with it the second she got home from school. It may be her birthday, but I wasn't going to break the 'no television before school rule' even today.

First off, Fairy Barbie needs batteries. Thank the babyjesus I keep extra on hand at all times...for their toys...yeah...

The battery compartments are located in the doll's inner thighs. I felt like some kind of masochistic perv digging around near Barbie's no no spot. From the looks of her eyeshadow choice, I get the feeling this was not a new experience for her.

Then I was to program Barbie with the DVD remote so that she becomes the remote (so Zen, don't you think?) and can work with the game. It looks so simple, but apparently I am not, as previously thought, smarter than Barbie. I couldn't get the stupid fucker to work.

So, we forged ahead using the actual DVD remote which meant that I had to play too. What good is this toy if I can't sneak out for a smoke break while the girls are entranced by sparkly shit and an 18" waist?

The game itself involves finding jewels, eating seaweed and picking up lonely sailors on the dock.

OK, there weren't any sailors involved. I suppose no one at Mattel shares my love of the inappropriate.

Hopefully when my husband gets home, he can figure out what the hell I did wrong in trying to get that bitch to work.

I'm not touching the birdhouse kit project with a ten foot pole.