Tag Archives: disrespect

Ask you what your interests are, who you be with? Things to make you smile, what numbers to dial…

Dear men of the world;

Kindly cut the following three things all the way out;

1)Honking at me while you drive by in your car.
What, exactly, is supposed to be my response to that? Am I supposed to step out of my heels and sprint behind your hooptie in gratitude?

2)Offering to put a smile on my face with any object other than a joke.
This happened today. My response, to paraphrase, was to ask if the gentleman in question actually owned one of the objects in question, and if so, did he actual know how to use it in company or only solo?

3)Not bathing.
Seriously, soap is cheap, water is free. And if you don’t use them, you are nasty.

None of the above will get you my phone number. Seriously, what are you even thinking?

I’m not much of a feminist but y’all are for damn sure trying to turn me into one.

Sociopolitically,
Mel

P.S.; for today’s song clip, we have the one and only Notorious B.I.G. Say what you will about the way he referred to women in his songs, but at least he knew he had to have actual conversations with us in order to get anywhere.

If there’s lessons to be learned, I’d rather get my jamming words in first…

I feel really ill. It’s raining. There was dirt on the shower floor this morning, and white paint(?) all over the back of the bathroom door. One of my housemates had some sort of porridge for breakfast this morning that involved most of our pots, bowls, and countertops, and very little washing up. (I hate porridge!) The radio is playing the same Pussycat Dolls song again. Some random Scottish guy is killing sea eagles. Meanwhile, some random Pakistani guy keeps feeding the pigeons on this street and they’re responding to his generosity by ungratefully splattering every square inch of the sidewalk with creamy white pigeon poo. There’s a spider the size of a terrier posted at the front door like some sort of bug bouncer. There are goofy commercialistic Christmas decorations up everywhere in town already. And did I mention it’s raining, and I’m ill?

Continue reading →

They call me Hell, they call me Stacy, they call me her, they call me Jane…

So a few days ago, I read about this, in the Guardian. Basically,¬† Jonathan Ross and Russell Brand made some¬† offensive, sexually explicit phone calls to Andrew Sachs concerning his granddaughter as part of a late night prank call radio show. (All three of those names belong to UK-famous entertainers, for those of you reading this from elsewhere.) The BBC has had to make apologies, Ross and Brand have been suspended, and there’s been all kinds of media brouhaha about it. Sach’s granddaughter, Georgina Baillie, has actually requested the pair be fired and is considering making a complaint to the police. I peeped at the transcript of the phone call and it is hideously disrespectful. I’m actually confused as to why anyone thought this would be funny in the first place.

I bring all that up to say, despite all, am I the only one who thinks the following quote, from todays news story about the grand-daughter’s point of view, is absolutely hilarious?

“Baillie, who has just returned from Vienna where she was performing with dance troupe the Satanic Sluts, said Brand and Ross were “beyond contempt” and that broadcasting the interview showed “an appalling lack of judgment”.”

Just thought I’d point that out.