feel you from the inside

This is going to be a serious post. Because I'm in a serious mood. As some of you know, I've somewhat recently relocated into a place of residence containing a member of the male species.
My Question:
Is it wrong for a feminist to want to be objectified? Here's the thing. I'm with this guy that's like... a "nice guy." He has genuine feelings and is super nice and good and sweet. And while it's true that I want to be respected and treated decently in the normal day-to-day, when the sun goes down, I'm the type of girl that kind of... I guess sex is just better for me when the guy isn't afraid to enjoy himself and let his inner animal out. I know that everyone has a different sexual personality, and I wonder if ours don't clash a little bit. Because when I get male attention and it's like that (objectifying to a degree), I go insane. In a good way. The relationships I've had that were the most... firestarting were the ones where, as soon as the door was shut, he was attacking me like a fucking inmate let loose for an hour. That shit is hot. I'm into that.
So my question is, I guess, if that means that I'm two-faced. Because I'm all about feminism in every possible way (I'm bisexual for fuck's sake), but at the same time, I don't want to be someone that a guy doesn't see as... a goal of sorts. Does that make any sense? I've never talked about this before, but what's a blog for if I can't vent this type of shit, right?
I guess part of me is just worried. Can I be in a long-term relationship with someone with a different sexual personality? Will I be tempted to cheat when a different guy treats me like a piece of steak he wants to devour?

I think a guy could quite easily distract me from a "nice guy" if he were to offer to fuck me in a stairwell. Know what I mean?
Life is so hard.

I guess it all boils down to long term vs. short term relationships. Settle with the nice guy and want to fuck the not-nice guy? Or will I be able to have a forever type relationship with a non-nice animal? I somehow doubt it. A girl like me has needs.

Ooh ooh, what if there was a guy out there that was nice, a good person through-and-through, AND he was a sexual deviant?

Nah. Those guys don't exist. sigh. I wish I could become a full-on lesbian. Best of both worlds. But I just... can't. Men are just too good to abandon.

RubyRubyRubyRuby SoHo

Is it too late to drop out? I mean, I know that I have a month left before I have a degree and all, but um... Yeah. I'd like to go ahead and uh... withdraw from the university. Thankyouverymuch.

Ech. And my satanic teacher, the one that screams at everyone, is getting more and more DARK SIDED. Do you guys get those teacher evaluation things? We do... at the end of every semester, we evaluate our teachers, and fill out this essay thing about any issues we have, pro or con. Here's what mine will say for Dr. Darkside:

"Dr. Darkside is not of this earth. He has been born straight from the semen in the ballsack of Satan himself, and has come to this university to turn artists into psychos via constant torture. He wears expensive clothes, but only to cover the fact that just under that pullover sweater, there are bubbling boils and green sludge oozing from every inch. I'm sure he must only feast on sacrificed virgin lambs every midnight of a full moon.

Please remove him from any and all departments and have him transported back to be with those of his kind [the other university in town is my guess, bwa ha haaa] so that us innocent geniuses can get on with our educations.

Sincerely,
Kara M****y"

What do you think? I mean, what can they do to me? I'll be gone before they read it.

Seriously, he made a girl cry yesterday. I like, want to walk my dog into his classroom and see if he freaks out and gets his fur all raised up and starts foaming and shit. Dogs can sense Satanic Ballsack Spawn.

Now Playing: Army of Me, Bjork

Simpson's Individual Water Absorb-a-tex Stringettes! Away with floods!

Aah, come in, come in, Mr....Simpson. Aaah, welcome to Mousebat, Follicle, Goosecreature, Ampersand, Spong, Wapcaplet, Looseliver, Vendetta and Prang!

Mr. Simpson: Thank you.

Wapcaplet: Do sit down--my name's Wapcaplet, Adrian Wapcaplet.

Mr. Simpson: How do you do.

Wapcaplet: Now, Mr. Simpson... Simpson, Simpson... French, is it?

Mr. Simpson: No.

Wapcaplet: Aah. Now, I understand you want us to advertise your washing powder.

Mr. Simpson: String.

Wapcaplet: String, washing powder, what's the difference. We can sell anything.

Mr. Simpson: Good. Well I have this large quantity of string, a hundred and twenty-two thousand miles of it to be exact, which I inherited, and I thought if I advertised it--

Wapcaplet: Of course! A national campaign. Useful stuff, string, no trouble there.

Mr. Simpson: Ah, but there's a snag, you see. Due to bad planning, the hundred and twenty-two thousand miles is in three inch lengths. So it's not very useful.

Wapcaplet: Well, that's our selling point! "SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL STRINGETTES!"

Mr. Simpson: What?

Wapcaplet: "THE NOW STRING! READY CUT, EASY TO HANDLE, SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL EMPEROR STRINGETTES - JUST THE RIGHT LENGTH!"

Mr. Simpson: For what?

Wapcaplet: "A MILLION HOUSEHOLD USES!"

Mr. Simpson: Such as?

Wapcaplet: Uhmm...Tying up very small parcels, attatching notes to pigeons' legs, uh, destroying household pests...

Mr. Simpson: Destroying household pests?! How?

Wapcaplet: Well, if they're bigger than a mouse, you can strangle them with it, and if they're smaller than, you flog them to death with it!

Mr. Simpson: Well surely!....

Wapcaplet: "DESTROY NINETY-NINE PERCENT OF KNOWN HOUSEHOLD PESTS WITH PRE-SLICED, RUSTPROOF, EASY-TO-HANDLE, LOW CALORIE SIMPSON'S INDIVIDUAL EMPEROR STRINGETTES, FREE FROM ARTIFICIAL COLORING, AS USED IN HOSPITALS!"

Mr. Simpson: Hospitals!?

Wapcaplet: Have you ever in a Hospital where they didn't have string?

Mr. Simpson: No, but it's only string!

Wapcaplet: ONLY STRING?! It's everything! It's... it's waterproof!

This goes on... it's so hilarious... Monty Python's skit "String" from "Contractual Obligation." I highly recommend it.

Kevina Federlinetta tells a story

Okay so this guy, right? He's all... hot and stuff, right? So like, I'm all "hey, you're like... hot and stuff." And he goes "yeah you too. You wanna like... go out or whatever?" and so I was like whoa, yeah and I said to him, I said, "yeah sure, okay. I mean, ya know, whatever."

So then we like... went out, right? And I was all... daayaaamm this guy is foyne. And we all... went out and saw a flick and all that. So then he was like, walking me to the door and totally didn't kiss me. So I was all.. okay it's the first date or whatever. So I go in, my heart was all... thumping and shit, cuz this guy is fly, y'all. And like, cool and shit, we was into the same things and shit.

So then he picks me up a few days later and is all "damn girl you look goodt [pronounced like a grunt], how you dooin'?" And I was like... damn he fly. I said to him I said, "te shoo. You know. I'm aight." And then he's all, droppin my ass off and standing like, three feet away and some shit. So I was like... whatever, ya know? But it was all good because we kept going out and having a good time and shit.

So then like... we're all sittin on my porch an all, and he's sittin there next to me, right? And he goes, like this he goes: "Hey you. Look at me." And my heart started "thumpin' hard like I wished he would [now push it]" and I looked at him, and he like, leans in and shit. And I'm all, 'finally,' in my head, you know. And he lays it on me. And I'm all.... oh HELL yeah. Cuz it's like, The Shit. And I'm thinking 'damn I'm glad he waited and shit, cuz that there was the BOMB.' But I play it cool, so I was all supadope casual. I wasn't aBOUT to tell him what his kiss did to me in some certain areas. And stuff. So yeah I'm cool as ice, yo, and just lean back. He's all, "mmm" and shit. I smile, right? And I'm like, "yep." And I nod and act like I can think straight, like I ain't phased a bit. All the while knowing my friends'd already be all up on his junk or whatever. But I play it supadope casual. Cool as ice, baby. Twinkle twinkle.

Gargyles, Pslychics, it's all UNGODLY.

Oh. My. God.

This is SO DARK-SIDED! I'm giving this up to GOD. I REBUKE THIS IN THE NAME OF THE LORD.

But seriously you guys, check this out! (Be sure to scroll down and see the autographed picture!)

Man, she makes Christians look like... I don't know what. Oh, and here's the woman herself, when she was little:




Man, people couldn't make this shit up.

Uncle Joey's Hair

Now THIS, my friends, is a scary image. At least she doesn't take herself so seriously that she can't make ridiculous faces like this. Oh, it's Mary Kate Olsen, if you couldn't recognize her

I'm sure you'll want to scrub your mind out with a brillo pad now, but hey.

It's 11 and my eyes are burning and my body is tired and telling me to curl up between the sheets and let sleep wrap around me. But here I am, not wanting to be still enough to let the panic suffocate me.

The last semester of your college education is going to SUCK people. Trust me. It'll be exhilarating because you know it's coming and you'll no longer have art projects and art movements and historical figures and literary documents to memorize. But at the same time... Man there is SO much work to do. I'm like, down to the wire every day. Some other thing is coming up due, all the while I'm working on my senior projects so that won't sneak up on me, too.

I see these little larval freshmen walking around with their sketch pads and shit, and I'm like... you have no idea what you're in for, buddy.
None.

The devil wears a pullover sweater and a tie.

I totally got reamed by a professor today. It was rather frightening on a quiet, dreary Wednesday. I went on that website I told you guys about (rate my professors or whatever) and I had seen that everyone said that the guy was a loose canon, and would snap at people out of the blue. I was like, "oh nu-uh bitches. He is such a nice person!" And now this.

I walked into his office to ask him a question, and suddenly the top of his scalp opened up and a red light bulb raised up out of the cavernous emptiness and started spinning around, making that weeeuurr weeeurr cop-car sound. A dollup (sp) of spit eased down his chin and his eyes began to glow this eery green light.

"KARA M****Y, I BELIEVE THIS IS A PROBLEM YOU SHOULD WORK OUT ON YOUR....OWN....TIME... PLEASE."

I lowered my head and risked flashing him a second of eye contact. "So sorry, I see I've caught you on a day you were stranded in a stall after eating pickled spinach and nobody would spare a square or something. I'll uh, I'll try Dr. V down the hall. Uh..." I started backing toward the hallway.

His venomous glare was my goodbye, so I turned on my nike and skeedattled, feeling the blast of fire singe a few hairs on the back of my head as I made my escape.

I'm lucky to be alive. I guess my cute eyelash batting does nothing on a guy like that.

Typical College Girl

It has recently come to my attention that I wear a lot of typical "college girl" style clothing. Is it a bad idea to always be wearing a hooded sweatshirt with my college emblem on it? Because seriously, I live in my collection of the damn things.

And my damn hair. Honestly. It pisses me off and I throw it up in one of those annoying messy wads, or in a ponytail, and pretend it isn't there.

In other words, I look like a million other college girls here. We all just like... ebb and flow out of buildings and down sidewalks.

I even have the fucking iPod.

Gah. At least I'm a Chuck Taylor girl. And not one of these new-fangled wannabe ones with the barbie voice, but one of the ones with the eyeliner. Except I lost the angst part of it years ago. And the safety pins. And the scowl.

Dwight Schrute, Assistant [to the] Regional Manager

Okay, you just have to love The Office. There is nothing more funny than that shit. And Dwight... geez. Dude steals the show.

Dwight: "The purse girl hits everything on my checklist: creamy skin, straight teeth, curly hair, amazing breasts. Not for me... for my children. The Schrutes produce very thirsty babies."

Not to mention he's a killer on the dojo.

And anyone that doesn't love Steve Carell can go straight to hell.
He was genius in Anchorman and The 40 Year Old Virgin, and he is priceless on The Office.

Seriously, he doesn't even have to say anything to be funny enough to induce pants-peeing. My only beef with the show is that it's only a half-hour. And that's just fucking wrong, man.

Don't say I never gave you anything:

Posting a story about my first um, sans-male experience turned out to be beneficial to my wednesday in ways I didn't expect.
It caused a chain of events that lead to the explication of certain behaviors pertaining to that which is not strictly "hetero" in the sense that there was a certain amount of activities which did indeed completely omit the male gendered species yet ended in the completion of three or more tasks per individual. I guess one might say that sharing a story caused a certain female friend to request a "retelling" and then a reinactment, and since said friend is someone with whom I partake in similar activities once in a while, why it would have been just plain-ol' mean to not indulge her. It's sometimes a little shaky at first, but we always work it out.

That said, I can move on to less interesting issues.

This girl I know is flying off to another country to meet some guy she met online. I shit thee not. And she won't be talked out of it. She's a friend of a friend that I frankly can't stand, but I feel kinda sorry for her at the same time. How bad does your self-esteem have to be to fly across the globe to stay for 2 months with a man you have never even seen? I mean, the guy could be a serial killer, and she could be flying directly into his lair.

To be honest, I won't be surprised if, after their first hour or two, he kicks her ass to the curb. Hope she has a fag or two to smoke while leaning on the bonnet of a motucah and asks to borrow someones telly to ring-a-ding home and send 'round for to snag a cabby.