6:17 am, pre dawn chat with my 10-year-old
Psst. Good morning. I’m going to go vote. Do you want to come with me?
Ok. Let me rephrase, it would mean a lot if you came with me to vote today. And someday, I think it will mean a lot to you too.
Honey, I’m already feeling a little weepy. This is a big deal and I want to share it with you. I’m probably going to be sobbing tonight when she wins, too.
What if she doesn’t win?
“…. I’m probably going to be sobbing then, too. That’s why we vote.” More
I open with the best kissing scene in all of John Hughes history. Better than Sixteen Candles [snooze]. Better than the passionless pecks in The Breakfast Club. Better than any Brat Pack liplock involving Andrew McCarthy. Is it the soundtrack? The juxtaposition of sex and oil pans? Is it the badassery of Mary Stuart Masterson as Watts? No matter. It’s a cocktail of PG-sexy awesomeness.
Behold…the Kissing Lesson from Some Kind of Wonderful.
This meme popped up on social media yesterday, in a comment thread on a post about the ‘controversial’ virginity of one of the women on the new Bachelor. Two things. Yes, this show is still on the air. And yes, the women are called ‘contestants’, though I refuse to name them as such. Because apparently, the dude is actually the winner…especially if he picks the virgin. Right? *shudder* So much wrong here. A woman’s sexuality has *never* belonged to the woman. Does this bother anyone else as much as it bothers me?
Yes. It bothers Caitlin Stasey. A lot.
Vasalgel, the male long-term contraceptive currently in Baboon Beta, er, animal trial, has hit my social media feed hard today. I immediately became Smirky McCynical reading about this product. Said cynicism proceeded to play out beautifully [sadly?] in popular feminist digital sources.
There are cookies in the pantry…and the voices begin.
“Ooo, I so want this. This will taste so good. This—THIS!—this will make me feel better.”
“Do you know how bad that is for you? You’ll get fat. You get grumpy. You’ll just shove more in your face in a minute. Goddammit. You constantly do things that are bad for you. You make bad choices. Let’s be clear. YOU.CANNOT.HAVE.THAT.”
“Oh-ho-ho, really? Watch me.” *om nom nom*
“At my age, in this still hierarchical time, people often ask me if I’m “passing the torch.” I explain that I’m keeping my torch, thank you very much—and I’m using it to light the torches of others.
Because only if each of us has a torch will there be enough light.”
Gloria Steinum details the plan to finally realize equity, across gender, race and socioeconomic lines. She’s plotted quite the adventure on the Ms. blog.
Sometimes I am very much Walter Sobchak. Minus the weaponry. I have been known to exclaim, at no one in particular, “Am I the only one around here that gives a shit about the rules?” I am so often Walter that his spastic plea has become a classic joke in my marriage. Along with a few others. Whatevs. I just have high expectations.
Wait. Bullshit. High expectations is just a euphemism for control freak.