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Archive for November, 2007

Love me, love your womens.

The 16 Days of Activism Against Gender Violence started 2 days ago on November 25th. I’ll write something when I get a moment free from my other job, y’know, the one that pays me and makes me miserable. In the meantime, check out the site by clicking here.

And on a totally unrelated note, take the time today to call your mamabear, your sister, your girlfriend and tell them you love them. Actually, call anyone you care about. Sometimes we all get so caught up in life that we assume that they can read our minds and hearts. They can’t.

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Last night my friend’s boyfriend told me he was “post-feminist”.

I was like, dude, seriously, you’re a white guy sitting there in your girlfriend’s new turban hat sipping on a vodka tonic telling me smugly you’re a “post-feminist” because you think we’ve got it all. Oh, and that men are objectified too. I hope for both their sakes’ that he has a beautiful penis and uses it well.

I used “like dude, seriously” in post. I officially award myself lame status. Craptastic.

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A little violent love.

I can be so insanely frustrating sometimes that Bronts used to hit walls. This is back when I kept breaking up with him for stupid reasons, and the one time I picked a fight after making him watch The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants on hangover day- I walked out halfway through, slamming the door, and to this day he still refuses to tell me the ending; he did discuss it with his friend though, “like seriously, those pants? weird” which I find incredibly endearing. Perhaps one of the reasons I decided to stop being a crazy person and admit that I love him. Anyway. Wall punching. There were a few dents above our bed in the old apartment which periodically showered a sprinkling of wall dust onto the sheets so when I collapsed at night I was guaranteed to have a shitty gritty sleep. Karma. It really sucked. Then, I punched a wall myself! Last night! And oh my god it hurt like a bitch. Still does actually. Now, when I think back to gritty sheets, it makes me smile a little. I suck for making Bronts so mad that he punched walls, but it’s nice that he loved me so much that he didn’t give up.

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Search Engine . . .

Toy train from istockphoto.These are terms people used to find your blog:

“pick him up” my boyfriend boobs”

Seriously, wtf? Who is reading my tripe?!

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Whenever anyone finds out I’m a feminist – does one ever ‘come out’ as a feminist? – the mood drops to decidedly uncomfortable and present company feel the need to challenge me or else laugh it off as another Edie just being Edie thing, like it’s a quirky trait, mmhmm. Worst thing is that when faced with having to explain myself (uh, isn’t it fairly self evident what feminism is all about) I morph into a guppy and then pour more liquor into my gaping mouth while incoherently trying to form a cohesive, determined and convincing point. Why do I get brain fart? Does this happen to anyone else?
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There was a post on Jezebel last week about Asian fetishes and the like. The thing is, in the comments below it seemed that women have as much of a stereotypical attitude towards this as the men. Not in a bad way, but in relating their experiences either with friends or exes. And it all makes me feel weird. It was almost like reading racial profiling but not nearly as creepy and, um, yeah, I’m slightly inarticulate today because I just got off a plane. You see, I’m not disgusted or offended by it, nor am I amused by it. I just don’t know how to feel. Being half Asian, I don’t know if I should feel pissed off at all the comments about Asian chicks having no figure (which I don’t anyway), being submissive (which I’m really not), hairless (kinda?), odorless (no comment), tight (ask the bronts). Or should I just not even dwell on it because, uh, it’s daft. Additionally, most of them don’t even take into account that Asians aren’t just Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Filippino or Thai. There’s so many colours, races and cultures that are conversely hairy, smelly and and big-titted that the “Asian fetish” thing doesn’t really add up. (more…)

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Search Engine . . .

These are terms people used to find your blog:

“lauren caitlin boob”

“drunk alone”

Erm. Ha. Hahahah. Haahahahaha. In the words of Tiona Smalls: Foreals!

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