Tuesday, November 18, 2008

Things I never do

Well, let me bury my lede, first off.

This morning, we got an e-mail from a former Jezebel/Wonkette commenter, one of several that I recall hating on me and my political coverage. This is what she said.
I'm a regular poster on Wonkette. I used to post a lot on Jezebel, but I liked Wonkette's political slant better, so I stuck with them when I had to choose which blog would get WAY too much of my free-time.

But this evening... well, not anymore, is my point.

I'm *******, and I'm fucking finished with Wonkette. I can't even express my rage over this post, honestly. I keep writing all kinds of rage-filled, angry missives about women, and how women are judged by their appearance, and how Palin might be functionally retarded but the bitch has got AMAZING legs, and yet I can't get anywhere. I feel like a huge gulf has been opened, and I can't possibly explain to the men of Wonkette why it's not OK to take perfectly healthy, slender woman, and call her a fat slob.

Hm, didn't like the political slant, huh? Didn't like the political coverage that much, i.e., me, so you went over to the site that fired me for being too lacking in insult comic humor and too ranty and not fratty enough in my political voice and -- let's be truly fair -- for catering too much to a LGBT-friendly crowd and for being too girlie and for telling the misogynists to fuck off and for banning them at will and now you're surprised that the site is run by the type of dick that thinks mocking Sarah Palin for being fat is funny and completely appropriate? Did you miss the last 10 months of his coverage? That's what he does, and that's what he lets his commenters do (no offense to Jim whose rant about Palin's use of gerunds was inspired and deserves to get him laid) and that's one of the reasons I was fired -- so he could do it. So, cry me a river, honey. You start off your e-mail by dissing me and now you're mad at him for doing what, with your page-view enticements, you've allowed him to continue doing? Whatevs.

Ok, second, "we" don't believe any such bull. She might -- and I'm sure she does -- but I am more or less on record as believing the complete fucking opposite. So, let me just say:
  1. 1. No. I wear tall shoes because I like them and I accept the full consequences of and responsibility for my actions and expect no such thing.
  2. 2. I don't care who gets in first, last, in the middle, or whatever. Seriously. In 10 years in D.C., I have learned to do this as gracefully as any man can and am not worried about the arrangement of my clothing.
  3. 3. OH GOD NO. No. Just, no. Uh-uh. I mind it. And I mind it not because of pride (although there's that) but because it's stupid and out-dated. I pick up checks or split checks as a sign that I am enjoying his company as much as he is mine and because I am as invested in having a good time as he is. It also doesn't hurt that I have my own money, prefer my independence and think that it is stupid for a so-called feminist to claim poverty. If you can't afford to go out, find other things to do. Stay home and fuck. Go to a cheaper place. Discuss it in advance. Come to a compromise. But this the opposite of what I believe -- and it's damn sure not feminism.
  4. 4. I do not dig on guys jizzing on me, but if I am closer to the Kleenex, I am happy to get one for each of us simultaneously. I am also happy to put the condom on, take it off, play clean-up patrol when on the rag, whatever. See above: I am as invested in both of us enjoying this as he is.
  5. If there ever comes I time when I get regular manicures again, I can sit still long enough for the polish to dry and I will not need a butler. Side note: never, ever, ever try to wipe me after I've finished urinating.
Ugh. I would be less annoyed if it didn't use the first person plural.


wobblie said...

Brilliant, Megan! As is Monday's Jezebel piece.

I honestly had no idea that my marriage was an empty and meaningless drudgery and my partner only saw me as a wallet with legs (what, no penis?). I s'pose they're right, and tonight I'll be wishing I was hanging out with the dudes playing Madden NFL 09 when my hot, adoring wife and I are fucking.

I'd call these guys douchenozzles, but that would imply that they go somewhere near a vagina.

Bowleserised said...

Once, *once* I went on a first date (internet one) with someone who paid for everything. He chose the venue and ordered something really expensive. He was nice but we had nothing in common.
And I still feel shit for not paying for half, even though I was unemployed at the time. It's years later and I've been in a another relationship for most of that period, and yet I still feel guilty.
The original list had no resonance for me at all. I always paint my nails then ruin 'em by deciding to do the dishes, scrub the bath and type a thesis because I don't seem to be doing anything.

Jacy said...

It cannot be easy, as such an intelligent and engaging woman, to have to share space with that train wreck.