Close Listen: Robin Thicke’s “Blurred Lines” Glorifies Rape Culture, Is also Catchy

Oh, Robin Thicke.

Oh, “Blurred Lines.”

“Blurred Lines” by Robin Thicke (who, I will admit, is super sexy) is everywhere these days.  The song, upon first and somewhat-distracted listening, is another generic pop song about sex or dancing or something…  It’s really catchy and it’s got some sonic soul.  The aesthetics of the song itself are groovy and cool.  If I hadn’t listened closely, I would probably like this song.

However, taking the time to listen to the lyrics provided me with the sadly not-so-shocking truth: “Blurred Lines” glorifies rape culture, portrays women as objects without agency, knowledge, or power, and suggests a problematic passage of women from one man to another.

Take a listen for yourself.

Wait… Before you do that, we need to talk about the video too.

THE VIDEO

The unrated version is below – very NSFW.  The video features three disaffected models wearing flesh-colored thongs…  As in, ONLY THONGS.  The boobies are out.  The models are sort of dancing.  It’s really rather weird.  Imagine what it was like to film that video.

Oh, so I just walk from side to side not really doing anything while these guys sing?  Okay.  Oh, and I’m naked.  Oh, I get a thong.  Great…

Awkward…

They let her wear clothes (sort of) but turned her into a road, on which they could drive their toys.

These very pretty, young women are strutting around while fully dressed men – all in suits –  perform a smarmy song around them.  It’s uncomfortable and everyone looks uncomfortable.  The women are making an effort to cover themselves some of the time, other times enjoying the bouncing… I guess.

At one point, one of the girls is holding a goat.  They’re wearing 90s shoes, plastic, and other weird stuff.  The men are all being horrible.

Ugh… Here it is.

BLURRED LINES – UNRATED – ROBIN THICKE, PHARRELL WILLIAMS, T.I.

THE LYRICS

The problem continues.

While the song is largely, well, stupid.  It’s a poorly written song about wanting to bang a hot chick.  We’ve all heard a lot of songs about this and many of them are offensive, reinforce stereotypes, and the objectification of women.  Even female artists participate in this a fair amount of the time.  Women often sing about how hot and desirable they are…  Men sing about their dicks.

The thing is, it’s a real problem to talk about women’s behavior meaning they want or need sex.  Consent is what’s sexy.  A girl dancing in a sexy way doesn’t mean she wants or needs to suck some dudes wiener. 

Women are allowed to be sexy, sensual, hot, attractive, pretty, and alluring without sex.  Nothing but consent is consent.  That’s just how it is.  Seeing a woman from across a room and having a feeling that she might “want it” doesn’t mean she really does.

Writing a song that repeats “I know you want it” six times per chorus sends a bad message.  It teaches young men and women that  seeming like they want sex is enough to consent actual sex.  But that’s not okay.  Sex should be something all participants agree to USING WORDS.  Not using eye movements or nods.  Telling men that they can tell when a woman wants sex by the way she dances isn’t helping anyone.  That’s teaching men that they know better.  They know something women don’t know.  Women need men telling them when sex should and will happen.

Except… WRONG.

The Chorus
And that’s why I’m gon’ take a good girl
I know you want it
I know you want it
I know you want it
You’re a good girl
Can’t let it get past me
You’re far from plastic
Talk about getting blasted
I hate these blurred lines
I know you want it
I know you want it
I know you want it
But you’re a good girl
The way you grab me
Must wanna get nasty
Go ahead, get at me

 

CREEP Week: The Old Man (with issues)

The Mysterious Old Man

This is a man with experience.  He believes that this experience will show him the way into your pants.  He believes that he can convince you of his skills in the bedroom.  He will tell you how good he is with women, but he will not show you that he is good.  The Old Man believes he is smooth, but spends all his time talking about being smooth, rather than actually being smooth.

When you, inevitably, reject him, he will get angry and dismiss you as a bimbo or just as stupid.  He will tell you that you’re missing out.  And he’s right, you are missing out on getting to see how long it takes for Viagra to kick in.

Have you encountered such a creep?  

We have.

YOU ARE GROSS.

The Negatives: 

His name was Matt, but I called him “Tom.”  Why?  T.O.M. = Tall, Old Matt.  He was 36.  I was 21.  He was a Class A Creep.  This is a dude that was out hunting for younger ladies and came upon me at a book stand.  He claimed to know about the book I was holding, which was later revealed as a farce.  He spent the next few weeks trying to sleep with me or marry me or move to NYC with me or something else altogether.  He was weird.  He slowly revealed that he was a recovering drug addict, working part-time as a line cook, who lived with his mom and step-dad.  Oh, he was also sexist, afraid of strong women, wanted to dress me, and thought I looked like a lesbian when I wore shorts.  Also, he was 36 and he was trying to date a 21-year-old.  That’s borderline illegal.  Speaking of borderline illegal, after I dumped his old and wrinkled ass, he sort of stalked me for a few weeks.  The police were involved.

The Positives:

We never slept together.  I got rid of him.  No harm.

The Lessons:

  1. Ladies (and gentlemen), never let a man tell you how you can dress.  You wear what you want.  You do what you want.  Creeps don’t rule the world.
  2. Ladies, never let a man lie about his age and get away with it.
  3. Ladies, never let a man stalk you.  

Creep Qualifications:

  1. He lied about his age.
  2. He was seeking someone in the low twenties.
  3. He admitted to dating a 16-year-old.
  4. He wore swim trunks everywhere.
  5. He talked about how hot he was all the time.
  6. He used tanning oil.
  7. He was a straight-up scrub.
  8. “Live at home with your mama?” Oh, yes. Son, I’m talkin’ to you.
  9. “Have a car, but you’re walkin’?” Oh, yes. Son, I’m talkin’ to you.
  10. He had just been released/escaped from rehab.
  11. He ran away from rehab.
  12. He thought I looked like a lesbian when I wore shorts.
  13. He accused me of being misleading because I was wearing a dress when we met, but didn’t always wear dresses.
  14. He really wanted to have butt sex all the time.  NEVER happened, FYI.
  15. He just kept talking about butt sex.
  16. He was paranoid about abortions… with no risk of pregnancy.
  17. He was obsessed with having public… encounters… with strangers.
  18. Did I mention he lived with his mom?

Creep Week: Snake Tongue, Over-Confident

Snake-Tongue, The Over-Confident

True Story…

I made the mistake of allowing this small-ish man to kiss me.  It was shockingly bad.  He then bragged about how good of a kisser he was, which I found alarming.  He asked me to confirm, and I said…  “Uh, I have to go.”  He then tried to convince me to sleep with him by explaining that he was as good at sex as he was at kissing.  So… I said, “No, thanks.”

It was awkward.

You see, I had allowed this small “gentleman” to walk me home, thinking that due to our common friends and his general demeanor, that he would not try a thing.  Well, he tried some things.  At first, he was just sort of oddly asking me to go out with him.  I was trying to negotiate down and not really interested.  Then, he just full-out went for a make-out session with my face.  I mean, he dove into my face.  He stuck his tiny, thin tongue down my throat and just kept jabbing it into my mouth.  His tongue moved in short, terrifying spurts.  It felt like he was trying tenderize my mouth.  It was, hands down, the worst kissing experience of my life.  Perhaps, the worst of all time.

He then began to tell me that he was “really, really good at stuff that girls like.”  I was like… “No.”  He kept trying to talk me into going to his place or letting him in mine so he could show me his skills.  He tried convincing me because he promised that “We don’t go all the way.”  He said, “We don’t go all the way” about 50 times.  It was an actual negotiation to him.  He thought that if he promised me orgasms and only foreplay, I’d be totally down.  In actuality, I was just trying to get him away from me without totally destroying our mutual friendship situation and without him knowing which apartment was actually mine.  He seemed very stalkery.

The reason he knew he was so good at pleasuring women?

He went to an all-boys school where the older boys “taught them all about that stuff.”  Uh…  Not to be judgmental, but wouldn’t older boys teaching younger boys about sex-stuff likely not involve women?  I mean, wouldn’t that experience all be dude-on-dude?  I just don’t think the ancient Greek system of old men making love to young men bodes well for that man’s skills with women.  You know?

When I finally convinced him that I really, truly, actually, for real was NOT going to mes around with his snake-tongued face, he said something horrible.

“Are you on your menstruation?”

The only reason he could imagine I wouldn’t want to feel his tiny hands or creepy tongue all over me was that I was on my period.  This yucky, creepy question was the last straw.  I slapped him across the face and told him to get real far, real fast.  He ran away.  He was a gross asshole.

This is, by far, the worst thing I’ve heard in response to rejection.  Never, never bring up a woman’s menstruation.

Side note:

He showed up at my apartment building the next day, calling me repeatedly (with a number he got from my friends), and begging to go on a date.  He also told me he lied about his age (he was younger) and he boasted his virginity.  I did not pick up the phone or see him again.

Mitt Romney Is a Robot-Alien, and other things I sort of believe.

Mitt Romney is a weird guy.  I think we can all agree on that much.  He doesn’t really seem to understand what’s happening around him.  As any politician must, he bravely ventures into diners filled with Middle America’s most middle-ish of people.  Romney is a 1%er, in fact, he’s probably in the 0.005%.  Dude is rich.  Dude is so rich.  Dude doesn’t even know what a clearance rack is.  Dude probably doesn’t even like Target.  If you don’t regularly shop at Target, I have doubts that you understand “middle class.”

Romney’s absurd wealth makes him so out of touch and seemingly odd that he seems like an alien/robot, or a robot alien.  I just don’t think he can wrap his beautifully gold-plated brain around the milieu of normal life.  *By the way, I mean real gold; I’m not calling him a blond.

Are you wondering why I think he’s both a robot and an alien?  

I’m just pretty sure he’s a robot alien.  As in, I think he is a robot who was likely designed by aliens far away in space, then maybe the robots rebelled and started to produce more of themselves, and now they are infiltrating other cultures and planets, and Romney is one of their best machines… His bid for the presidency is one of the final steps in their plan.

Anyways………….  Here are some reasons.

REASON:  He’s bad at talking like a human person.

Imagined Mitt dialogue: “Hello there, Average Joe.  I am Candidate Stone Hair.  I would like you to vote for me.  I will do anything, literally.  Also, what is a ‘flannel’ and why is everyone in plaid?”

“TERRIFIC!”

“Oh, boy! It sure is sunny!”  “Haha!”  “Yes!”

“I like Michigan.  I like trees.  All the trees are the right height.”

“Tall women are dangerous.”

“Hello there, waitress at diner.  I would like two poached eggs with truffle oil, on a bed of fresh mint, with a piece of Wonder Bread, toasted, and spread with pumpkin butter on one side and Belgian chocolate on the side.”  And then the waitress is like…  “?”

REASON: He just might be too rich.  I don’t think this is a “punishment for success” as Fox News might think it is; I just think someone that far out of the normal American experience won’t be able to understand what people need or want.  I don’t feel comfortable being represented by this person – just like I wouldn’t want the King of France leading our country.  That would be weird.

REASON:  His richness leads to thinking that the middle class stops at $250,000 per year.  Um, if you’re making a quarter of a million dollars, you’re upper class.  I bet that he cannot even imagine that a middle class family might make less than $100,000 per year.

The poverty line must be so astounding to him.

REASON: Well, it’s because he’s so robotic and awkward.  He doesn’t seem to understand humans.  I imagine that life in general is very confusing for him.  In this campaign, he’s had to sludge to such awful, lowly places (by his standards) and it’s hard.

He just doesn’t get it.

REASON: He tells stories like this: “I met a guy yesterday, seven feet tall. Yeah, handsome, great big guy, seven feet tall! Name is Rick Miller—Portland, Oregon. And he started a business. Of course you know it was in basketball. But it wasn’t in basketball! I mean, I, figured he had to be in sport, but he wasn’t in sport.”

REASON: His face doesn’t make sense.

REASON:  Romney doesn’t seem able to agree with himself for any substantial amount of time.  I’m not sure if he’s sure if he’s real or not.  Is moderate Romney the real one?  Is super conservative Romney the real one?

watch?v=bxch-yi14BE&feature=related

REASON:  I’m confused.  Isn’t this guy just the leftovers?  No one was excited about him a few months ago.

Mitt Romney is crazy-crazy.  He just confuses me.  What do you want?  What is your deal?  Why do you want all this power?  You don’t really have any views or thoughts that stay steady.  Ugh.

Terrible Sex Advice from Magazines

Why are women’s magazines so bad at giving sex advice?  I would think that women who are comfortable with their sexuality, educated enough to work at a major magazine, and given these assignments would have some semblance of reasonable experience and the good sense to know what their partners enjoy to write decent and believable sex tips.  This is just not the case.  Sure, there are occasional gems in these sex advice columns; in an effort to be reasonable (unlike some people), I will give you a few examples of solidly decent advice.

REALLY BAD SEX ADVICE MAKES ME MAKE THIS FACE.

Some Decent Advice:

Be confident.  Wow, this is an actual tip that sex partners will appreciate.  Sexual and body confidence will go a long way in the bedroom (hopefully they aren’t alone on the “long” side).  I think most people will also enjoy their own bedroom experiences if they feel good about themselves, know what they want, and have the confidence to try things with their partner.  This one is good.

However, it’s not great.  If you are overconfident in bed, it can really, really backfire.  Haven’t we all heard stories about, or perhaps even experienced ourselves, people who think they’re amazing at sex, but are actually quite awful?  I recall a tale from a male friend about a lady who gave some boring-ass blowjobs that she thought were the best in the world.  Her blowjobs were even titled, “The Seven Levels of Heaven” (or some other stupid name she’d probably heard in a magazine).  This basically consisted of some limp licks followed by startlingly toothy deep-throats.  By his account, they were creepy, terrifying, and very NOT enjoyable.  Yet, this poor misled girl thought that she was SO good at them.   He later learned that she had, in fact, been instructed to do so by a fashion magazine.  Sadness ensues.

Be open.

That’s also pretty good advice.  Just discuss what you’re being open about with your partner.  None of this surprise S&M business.  Be responsible sexers, please.  You have to ask before you role play.  You should discuss putting frozen coins on your partner’s vagina before doing so (you’ll see this later).  Just talk first.

Terrible Advice.

Before we start, let me remind you to NOT DO THESE THINGS TO ANYONE.

“Give your man a sexy massage by rubbing his buttcheeks and blowing on his crack when you spread them apart.”
That is a real piece of advice I read in Cosmo roughly five years ago.  I still remember it because it is so, so bad.

“Bite his nipples.”
What the what?  You should discuss this first.  Also, they should specify that you shouldn’t bite hard.  I can imagine this going so wrong…

“Text your man racy one-word messages that, when strung together, hint at what you want him to do to you that night.”
Why not just send a complete sentence?  For example, “I want you.”  Another example, “I’m gonna bleep your bleep so bleepy.”

“Build momentum by keying in to an ocean legend that the seventh in a series of sea waves is the strongest. Lie on your back on a bench and have your man make every seventh thrust his most powerful.”
This is impressively specific and ultimately weird.  What happens if you lose count?  Who taught them this?  How does this conversation start, “So, I know you’re really into sailing and screwing… I have a great way to combine your loves, and it’s not sex on a boat.”

“Pop an erotic film into the DVD player, and let the noises serve as inspiration — you’ll feel like you’re in the midst of an orgy.”
Obviously the person who wrote this piece of advise has never seen “an erotic film” because there is nothing realistic or romantic about them.  Watching two actors perform exaggerated sounds of pleasure while a camera crew watches them… That’s not sexy.  Also, do you really want to see a lady with the biggest boobs of all time right before you take off your own top?  I just think this one could end poorly.  You gotta really do some research.  Lots of research.

“Put a frozen grape in your mouth and warm it up a bit. Then hold it between your teeth and glide it down his neck, around his nipples, and over his lips. Finally, use your tongue to slip the grape into his mouth.”
This is really, really detailed.

“Pick up a couple of sushi rolls, lie down on your couch, and invite your man to enjoy a meal off your naked body. If he’s not a fan of raw fish, use Gummi bears instead.”  
Why Gummi Bears?  I just don’t understand why they went to Gummi Bears if sushi wasn’t acceptable.

“Try light choking.”
Again, this needs to be discussed ahead of time.  This is not a quick change.  Oy.

“Surprise him with anal.”
This should not be a surprise unless previously discussed and agreed upon.

“Put a bunch of very clean (seriously, wash them first) coins in the freezer.  Then, have your man use the coldness of the coins to toy with you while he uses his tongue.  The mix of hot and cold will drive you wild.”
Coins?  Do not put coins on your hooha.  I don’t care how long you wash them.  If you really want to try hot vs. cold, use ice or the grapes from earlier.  Don’t use money.  That’s so weird.  Plus, copper has that strange smell…  I just don’t think this is sexy at all.

I’m sure I’ll write a follow-up to this.  There’s a lot of weird stuff out there.

So, Pregnancy Is Inevitable Now?

DO NOT WANT.

I’m pretty afraid of pregnancy.  I think a majority of sexually active women in their twenties are also quite afraid of babies appearing inside their bodies.  Pregnancy is a constant threat weighing on us 75-90% of the time.  The other 10-25% of the time we have cramps, so we’re pretty sure we are not pregnant in those moments.  Those are good moments.  Those are moments that remind me of freedom, that ring of choice and birth control, and that remind that I am NOT ready to be a parent.  I’m far too creeped out by pregnancy.  I mean, my god!  Think about it.  Pregnancy is terrifying and a constant threat.  It takes you over.  It wins.  It is very, very scary.

Why is pregnancy so scary?

Oh, I don’t know… Maybe because a parasite grows inside of you?  Maybe because it makes your boobs go crazy?  Maybe because it’s the thing all women fear before some crazy switch goes off in their head?  Maybe because your body will never be the same?  Maybe because if you have a baby, you ALWAYS have it?  Pregnancy is imprisonment, and it’s a lifetime sentence.  Did I mention the stuff it can do to your body?

THERE ARE EIGHT BABIES IN THERE! EIGHT!

You might be wondering what prompted such a vile spew of anti-pregnancy thoughts, the answer is fear.  Pregnancy is not inevitable for me.  I believe in birth control and I know how to use.  It’s a good thing, y’all.

Lately, a lot of people (mostly my mother and my boyfriend’s friends) have been really chatting me up about babies. The message seems to be: “Pregnancy is inevitable.” I mean, I get what they’re saying. Maybe I will eventually decide to do that to myself or to let someone do that to me.  They all seem to think that for me not to know or for me to deny wanting children is blasphemous.  It’s not.  Some women don’t have children.  Some women don’t want children.  Some women don’t want to make their own.  Maybe I just don’t know.  I do know that I want to avoid this question.

Don’t ask.  Don’t wish babies on me.  That’s weird.

I know that a lot of women talk about the magic of childbirth, but I think many women have also experienced/are currently experiencing life as someone who is deeply and violently frightened of pregnancy and children. I’m tired of people telling me that I have to have kids. I don’t know what the hell I want. I’m 23. Back off.

Why is pregnancy being discussed as an inevitability?  Or at least, why is it being discussed as a fast-approaching, oncoming train?

No.

THIS IS WHAT IT DOES TO YOUR BODY. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS. OH MY GOD.

Basically, babies come from explosions in women’s bodies.  They are scary.  They shoot out of places and things go boom.  Then they cry a lot.  They cry so much.  There is so much stuff happening.  I get that babies are cute and stuff, but wowzers.  No thank you.

The babies get inside of you and then they try to get out of you.

There is just so much scary stuff about this. For example, THERE IS A HUMAN TRYING TO ESCAPE FROM THIS WOMAN’S STOMACH.

Sometimes I have dreams about babies happening, and I wake up in cold sweat.  I don’t wake up smiling and laughing and clapping my hands.  I wake up terrified.  Sometimes I have dreams about drinking and running and being awesome and single and not having babies and keeping my body the same shape.  Those are times when I wake up comforted and happy and joyous and giggly.  Good stuff.

Sometimes I think about my life in ten years.  When I think about that life including kids, it feels messy and sloppy and loud.  When I think about it without kids, it feels messy and sloppy and loud… Wait.  I guess those are the same.

Sometimes I imagine what would happen if I got preggers right now, and while it is better than a teenager getting preggers, it’s still not my favorite idea.

Also, this:

There are just so many things that can happen.  So many babies can happen.  So. Many. Babies.

Only Forcible or Legitimate Rapists Need Apply

Okey dokey, Republicans in the U.S. Senate. Do we really need to go over this again? What the fuck were you doing during high school Biology and/or Health class, or did you spend the entirety of high school asking Jesus to punish you for your teenage boner from looking at Prom Queen Kelly Ann Simons too long? Todd Akin (R-MO)–you may remember him from the “forcible rape” debacle of a bill he co-sponsored with none other than our new pal Paul Ryan (R-WI)–apparently told KTVI-TV the following on Sunday: “From what I understand from doctors, [pregnancy from rape] is really rare. If it’s a legitimate rape, the female body has ways to try to shut that whole thing down.”

I would like to tell the men of the U.S. Congress something very important: the female body is not magic. The vagina is not a mysterious pit that has the power to discern the motivations of the penis entering it and conveniently stop a pregnancy if the dick looks or acts rape-y. Since when did the discourse around the female body slide back into the mentality of fourth grade boys who have heard shady rumors from kids two years older than them that have grossly misunderstood their sex ed classes? (Sidenote: these are the same people who think we shouldn’t teach sex ed in school. Apparently “magical vaginas” should be the standard for biological knowledge of sexual intercourse.)

After apologizing for his comments, Akin went on to say he screwed up; what he really meant wasn’t “legitimate rape” but “forcible rape”:

Akin appeared as a guest on former Arkansas Gov. Mike Huckabee’s radio show. When asked about what he meant by the term “legitimate rape,” he said, “I was talking about forcible rape, and it was absolutely the wrong word.”

His bad, guys. But seriously, what the fuck!? How has some nonsense term like forcible rape even entered our general lexicon? What the hell does it mean? And one of the idiots who co-sponsored the initial “forcible rape” bill nonsense is running for Vice President of the United F*&$ING STATES OF AMERICA!!! This isn’t a problem of terminology. Rape is forced. Any rape is legitimate because it’s RAPE. If somebody puts their dick in you and you don’t want it there, that’s rape. It doesn’t matter how you were dressed or what you ate for breakfast. It doesn’t matter what you look like, how skinny or fat you are, how old or young you are, whether you’re dressed like a prostitute or a housewife: if you say no, it fucking means no. It doesn’t mean that it’s not rape if she’s wearing booty shorts and he does a lot of begging and then just does what he wants.

Do we really need to parce rape into different degrees of culpability on the part of the rapist? Rape is rape. Period. And on top of this, citing some nonsense pseudo-science about mystery secretions and hormonal changes under stressful situations makes every woman who ever says no and is violated and impregnated a dirty, lying whore. Scientifically.

The discourse surrounding not only rape but women’s rights to control their bodies (and one doesn’t even have to look to the issue of abortion anymore, just birth control!) is in the toilet. From personhood amendments to ultrasound probes to “forcible rape,” there’s a lot of finger pointing at and distrust of women as a class of people. I thought we had made strides in this department. I guess not. I’m just hoping this forcible rape nonsense doesn’t turn into a steaming pile of forcible bullshit in November.

10 Ways to Test Your Relationship

Relationships are hard, weird, and hopefully great.  Every relationship will be tested naturally, but if you’re looking for ways to see just how strong, or good, or whatever your relationship is, here are some ideas.

  1. Ask about porn.  When you do this, make sure to ask about the frequency, type, subject, and any other details you can imagine.  The more you push for details, the more of a test it really will be.  Once you’ve completed asking about this wonderful subject, make  certain you share your interests and preferences just as openly.
  2. Road Trip!  Being trapped in a car for hours and hours and hours is a sure-fire way to see if you secretly hate each other.  Plus, if your partner doesn’t shoot you when you scream and startle them upon seeing a spider…  You’re golden.
  3. Fart in front of your partner while maintaining eye contact.  I haven’t tried this, but it seems like it would work.
  4. Have a really awful day.  Then, hang out.  While it’s hot.  And you’re tired.  Experiment away!
  5. Go hiking.  You will quickly learn if you or your partner are whiny, lazy, weepy, weak, annoying, or cool.
  6. Debate who is weirder.  This will get ugly fast.  You will see what your partner finds odd and possibly annoying about you.  If you can withstand this, you’ll be alright.
  7. Have weird sex.  I don’t care if it’s role play, bondage, blindfolded, exhibitionist, group, or just different – try something a little out of your comfort zone together.  When you do this, you will either build trust and see that you already have a great deal.  OR it will be an awkward mess and perhaps a sign that you should avoid each other forever.  OR maybe it’s bad, but you can both laugh.  It’s a test.  You be the judge.
  8. Meet the parents.  What could be more telling than that?  Do you hate your partner’s parents?  Do they hate yours?  Are they creepy together?  Do you feel judged?  It will be awkward, but you can do it… and if you can’t, maybe you’ve failed.
  9. Meet the friends.  You will be judged so damn hard.  Get ready.  Get set.  Get to impressing.  Friends will tell it like it is.  You have to impress each other’s friends, or you will ruin each other’s lives.
  10. Throw up on your partner’s bedroom floor.  Trust me, this will test you both. Big time.  If your partner simply begins to take care of you, cleans your barf, and then refuses to sleep to maintain surveillance of you and your illness for the night, then they are awesome, and they deserve major rewards.  If they get mad at you and tell you to clean it up, they might be a real dick.  The lover that holds your hair deserve high praise and hella love.

Look Before You Squat: One Woman’s Advice on Toilet Seats

Ladies, look before you sit.  This seems to have reached epidemic levels.  Ladies’ lady parts are plunging themselves into toilets because they aren’t looking before plopping their naked asses on seats other people pee on.  This is something I, as a lady, find confusing.  You see, I’m quite protective of my bum and genitals, thus I look before I squat.

I always have, and thus, I have never fallen into the toilet.  I am really tired of hearing women complain about men leaving the seat up like they’re being attacked and/or disrespected.  Someone just forgot.  It’s like if someone left a seat cushion off a couch…  but you’d probably see that first, and then put it back before setting your rear end on it.  How is this a guy’s responsibility?  You should be more concerned about your own bum.  You should care more.  You shouldn’t feel so entitled.  Also, it’s just a damn toilet seat.  Just move it.  You’ll have to wash your hands either way.

Yes, I think it makes sense for the person who originally moved the seat to move it back, but who gives a crap?  (Pun SO, SO intended.)

Just look.  You’re putting your naked butt (which is really close to you genitals) on something AND YOU’RE NOT GONNA LOOK?

Just look.  What if there’s pee on the seat?  What if someone else’s pubes are on the seat?  Wouldn’t you want to check for that anyway?  Wouldn’t you also want to make sure there’s TP while you’re at it.  Just look.