Archive for May, 2004

More Tentacles = More Fun!

Friday, May 7th, 2004

Liah sent me the link to this story (I know that’s not a static link, but I don’t know what to do about it). I found it pretty interesting, because giant squids are pretty cool, although the first few lines alarmed me somewhat:

“The giant squid is not especially choosy when it comes to sex and will mate blind without checking if the object of its affections is male or female, a German researcher said today.”

I think I have dated giant squids in the past without knowing it. Not insulting myself or anything, because I’m pretty hot in a mentally disturbed shut-in kind of way. That description just seems to fit more than a few of my, uh, “special friends” of the past.


“Until now, it was thought males injected themselves with sperm by accident during mating. But that is definitely not the case here: the sperm was clearly injected by another giant squid.”

That’s totally how I found out one of my high school boyfriends was bisexual.

Lesbian Strippers: Making the World a Better Place, One Discarded Garment at a Time

Sunday, May 2nd, 2004

Man, I’ve really developed a tendency to go with long entry titles, no?

Tonight, myself and a few choice lassies are off to catch Gurlesque’s show at The Stage on Smith St. I’m really looking forward to it. I’ve meant to see them the last few times they’ve been in Melbourne, but haven’t seemed to get around to it (well, that would involve leaving the house). Finally I’m getting my arse into gear! Although maybe not in the same way as the Gurlesque ladies. That said, my dear friend Sonya and I have developed a tradition of giving each other lapdances when we’re out together. I think it’s nice to have special traditions with your friends.

So, anyhow, I’m psyched. If you’re around and not busy tonight, and also female, you should think about coming along. Also, about saying hi. I will be the tall bespectacled blonde molesting the slightly bemused-looking punky Fijian chick.

I’m hoping it will drag me out of the funk I’m in today, actually. I feel absolutely shocking at the moment, and have all day. I think it’s partly to do with the weather, and the fact that my essays are refusing to write themselves. It may have something to do with the fact that I’ve been listening to sad bastard music all day (although that’s a bit of a chicken-and-egg conundrum). And it definitely has something to do with the fact that, last night, Stuart and I had our first fight in about eleventy billion years, and it was a doozy. Everything’s okay and sorted out now, but I’m still down about it. Turns out that ignoring your issues doesn’t actually make them go away. Bummer, eh?

Anyway, I’m greatly looking forward to spending some quality time with some of my favourite ladies, watching some other ladies take their clothes off. Now I’m off to do something productive with the remaining hours of the afternoon. Exercise-productive, I mean. Not homework-productive. That would just be silly.

Close Encounters of the Fuckwit Kind

Saturday, May 1st, 2004

Despite my inherent (or what I like to think of as my inherent) cynicism regarding my fellow human beings, sometimes I’m still really shocked at how nasty people can be to and about one another, even when there’s no actual reason for it.

I had this happen a few days ago at work. I was serving a woman who happened to be tall and also rather overweight. There was one man queuing behind her, who decided that rather than wait in line, he would walk around her and come and lean on the desk, sighing loudly and pointedly, because by serving the person in front of him I was obviously not doing my job properly.

After finishing with the woman, I politely turned to the man, now sprawled across the desk from the waist up, and asked how I could help him. As I was serving him, he suddenly started ranting about the girl I’d just served, none too quietly. He was deeply offended by her size – “I could hardly get past her!” I refrained from pointing out that, had he queued like a person with manners, it would not have even been a problem. Then he launched into a tirade about how disgusting she was and how she should lose some weight.
“Stop it,” I said, giving my best steely librarian gaze over the frames of my glasses. “That’s really inappropriate and I don’t want to hear it.”
He dropped his voice but didn’t stop talking about the woman.
“I mean it,” I said. “I don’t want to hear it, you’re being completely inappropriate and I want you to stop right now. This is no place for that behaviour.” By this time, another woman had queued up and was watching us with curiosity. She could hear what I was saying, but not what he was, because by this time he’d dropped to a low mutter. This continued for another thirty seconds or so, then I finished serving him and he left.

I felt angry and disgusted for a while after that, even after reporting him the branch manager and being praised how I’d handled the situation. I know pretty much everyone judges everyone else internally, and people tend to be pretty harsh about the overweight, but seriously: what the fuck makes people think they have the right to start ranting about someone who has done nothing to them, simply because they’re fat? Furthermore, what makes them feel so justified in their right to rag on someone’s physical appearance that they continue to do so even after being asked to stop several times? I just don’t get it. This woman did nothing to deserve the man’s reaction – except, of course, exist, which was apparently offensive enough. It’s situations like this where I start to feel that old standard about glass houses and stones really has some merit; not that I want to sink to his level, but an ugly, obese, rude and bitter old man attacking a well-mannered, polite and beautiful young woman who also happens to be overweight would be funny if it wasn’t so, I don’t know, bile-inducing.

I’ve never really understood why so many people seem to feel they have the right to comment on and judge other people’s bodies at random, especially when it’s deliberately done to be in the subject’s hearing. It’s just rude and stupid, people. You don’t come across as wise or helpful or honest or even superior, you just come across as cuntish. I’m not even going to start on the effects comments like this have on the subject. My official stance is “DUH, FUCKTARDS!” It’s not fat people who are offensive, it’s the people who think they’ve got the right to comment and sneer, because as we all know, an excess of body fat severely inhibits one’s ability to hear, as well as their sensitivity to unjustified criticism. Not to mention that it completely voids their rights to be treated with the basest levels of human decency when they dare take their fat arses out of
the house to, oh, I don’t know, go to their local public library. God forbid a fat person should ever do anything besides hole themselves up in a shuttered house, stuffing their faces in shame. God forbid sterling examples of humanity like Mr Dickcheese are expected to treat them with anything but vocal contempt.

I hate it when I’m reminded in this way of how stupid and petty and just outright nasty people can be. I hate it that this guy just completely did not understand (or care) why I was asking him to cease and desist. I hate it that I had to even try to point out to someone with a good four or five decades on me that the way he was behaving was inappropriate for a public space. And I really, really hate it that, along with my reasonable disgust
and anger at the inappropriateness and base nastiness at the man’s comments, a small, ever-present kernel of self-doubt and loathing began to unfurl and make me take all this personally.