Down with Tuesdays

6 Aug

Tuesdays are the worst.


“Look! It’s a bird! It’s a plane! No, it’s … TUESDAY!”

Sure, everyone and their favorite orange cat hates Mondays. But Tuesdays are the real threat here. No one suspects a Tuesday, which makes them all the more insidious. They’re like the sneaker wave of the workweek, the disproportionately shitty weekday that appears without warning, catching workers unawares and washing them out to Wednesday and beyond.

Here’s how I see it: Mondays are like getting punched in the face. You don’t see them coming and you have very little time to react. There’s a response delay to a Monday – by the time you’ve realized what’s happened, it’s over. You’re in shock. The pain hasn’t set in yet.

But Tuesday, oh, Tuesday. Tuesday is when you look down and realize there’s blood on your shirt and your nose is out of joint. Your jaw hurts and your head throbs and you realize you’re lying on the floor surrounded by everyone who saw Monday’s facepunch go down. Wednesday was the closest and is trying to convince you to take off work and go to the hospital, Thursday was walking by in the hallway and just stopped to make fun of you, and Friday is nowhere to be found.

Tuesday, my old nemesis. From now on, let’s all greet Tuesday with suspicion, a well-stocked supply of whiskey, and a hockey mask.

The B-Word (Pssst: It’s not Britney, it’s Bitch!)

14 Jun

Happy Friday my dear-hearts!

I have an announcement! Although I’m quite used to the commentariat calling me nasty names (not YOU, of course – you are a smart, thoughtful, well-bred and handsome individual), it’s finally official: I am A Bitch!

And by that I mean, of course, that Bitch published an article I wrote, which was described by one thoughtful fellow as “like making it to Feminist Carnegie Hall,” which is exactly what it feels like, minus the standing ovation (which would really just embarrass me anyway (not really actually, please ovate as much as you wish. No, really. OVATE, dammit!)).

ANYway, here is a link to the current issue if you want to check it out. You can read a few of the articles in that issue online, but mine’s reserved for the print-only edition. Mine is the one called “Lens Crafting—How frames change the way we read the news,” which is really a quite clever headline, don’t you think?

You must buy the issue – either print or digital for the low low price of $4.95 – if you want to read my article. Normally, I’m against this sort of self-shillery, but Bitch is a nonprofit and the content is worth it. I’ve been a subscriber for years and I read every issue cover to cover – they’re a great shop, folks, and I recommend supporting them if you can afford it, even if I weren’t published by them. If you have a burning desire to read my article but zero dollars, please send me a heartfelt message and I will consider buying you a copy for the next major holiday (such as the widely-celebrated Vodka Tuesday, for example).

In any case, that’s my Major Accomplishment of the Week (which maybe isn’t so major but it feels major so there). So in grand Weekend Open Thread tradition: What have you been up to this week? And what are your plans for the weekend? Doing anything for Pride month, hmmm? Tell me your secret plans in the comments and I’ll tell you mine! Talk amongst your brilliant selves!

Stay at Home Dads Are…

13 Jun

In response to this post, commenter politihub suggested I Google “Stay at Home Dads are…” and here are the not-wholly-unsurprising results:


Oftentimes results like these are wielded by people claiming that sexism doesn’t exist or that men have it worse than women. In reality, of course, the negative perceptions of men who perform traditionally-female-gendered “women’s work” are just more cogs in the patriarchy machine. Patriarchy cuts both ways, harming both men and women and especially everyone in between. That’s why The F Word (feminism, shhhh!) is important for everyone.

Reading isn’t Sexy

10 Jun

A new post over at XOJane from yours truly posits that reading is not sexy, as the bumper stickers and tote bags would have you believe. It’s just a hobby like any other, that people do, because they like it. But, as always, when gender gets mixed into the equation, somehow laydees get the sexy end of the stick. Antics ensue!

Anyway, you should go read it now! There are pictures, too!

Single parents: Male and female

6 Jun

Found on imgur, reposted here for your degustation:

Single Parents

When you search these terms, what do you find? Your results may vary, but if nothing else this serves to illustrate a very disturbing difference in the way we perceive single female parents vs. single male parents.

Your Friday Playlist

17 May

Happy Friday, friends! Today, I bring you a selection of insanely happy tunes to start your weekend off on the right foot.

This is just delightful:


Sexy X-ray eyes, you guys. What’s not to love? Now for some classic happy hardcore bounciness:

More happy hardcore goodness, with bonus 80s awesomeness mixed in:

And, of course I’ve left the best for last:

Be happy, boys and girls, and have a wonderful weekend! What are your plans for your days off – or your next days off if you are working Saturday and Sunday?

Thursday Vignette

8 Mar

In the hot dry heat of the summer of 2005, in a plateau desert town where tiny green bugs swarmed so thick sometimes you’d have to clean hundreds of bug bodies, smeared heavy with green slime, off your headlights before they’d work at night, I put pens in my hair.

I’d pile it up thick and messy, off my bare white shoulders, and wrap wide rubber bands the color of old folks flesh around it. It needed to be out of my face for the hours I spent poring over ink-smeared pages with a leaky red pen, looking up sometimes to push my black-rimmed glasses up my nose, crack a joke, have a drink. Eventually I’d stick a pen in that mess, and lose track of it. Find another one. Get back to work. Put it up there, too. Wander to a meeting, collect another pen and stow it in my hair as well.

Eventually there’d I’d be, a nymphet of the copy desk, the medusa of writing implements. Bare-armed and crowned with words. What a wonderful summer.


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