Dear WGN,
Far be it from me to tell you how to run your network, and while I do respect that you reserve the right to edit programming to best preserve the image of said network, I must confess to being a bit confused by one of your recent choices.
So I’m hoping someone can explain to me exactly what distinction it is between appropriate and inappropriate content that allows me to see commercials for Trojan vibrators during censored episodes of ‘South Park’?
Sincerely,
A Viewer
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
How Dudeman Von Randominternetguy Dares to Talk to You Like That
Not long ago, I received a FB request to be friends with someone I had never met before, never heard of, and had no discernible connection with. To preserve said new friend’s anonymity, I’ll call him Dudeman Von Randominternetguy. And since that’s difficult to type, spell, pronounce and remember, from here on we’ll just refer to him as Steve.
I accepted Steve’s friend request because there was no real reason not to. It’s a social network, and I’m there to be social. I also understand it’s my job to establish and maintain my boundaries on said social network, not Steve’s job to establish them for me or read my mind to figure out what they are. So, when Steve got a bit fresh and forward, I gently but firmly let him know that I’m only that kind of girl for one person and he isn’t it.
(Note to Interns: “Fresh & Forward” as name for progressive combo Burlesque/Farmer’s Market traveling seasonal roadside attraction. Make it happen, please.)
Steve retreated, and it was a non-issue from that point on. All he needed to hear was that his approach from that direction was not welcome.
Now, even when I receive friend requests from people that I’m pretty sure are only sending them because I’m naked on the internet, I still like to at least skim their profiles and see whatever is to be seen, and such was the case with Steve. I skimmed, found a few things that looked intriguing (assuming they’re true), and didn’t see any cause to immediately delete him from my friend list and block him for all eternity. I did, however, see something that I felt needed to be addressed, so this is me, addressing it.
A young woman, who we shall call Blondie McMiniskirt, had posted a rant on Steve’s wall, calling him out for having the audacity to send her a friend request when it was clear that all he wanted to do was chat with random women on the internet, that he just made her sick, how dare he be such a stain on the otherwise unbesmirched landscape that is online social networking, how could he sleep at night when he was single-handedly ruining a better tomorrow for all the children of all the lands with his unmitigated scumbaggery, etc.
Please note that Blondie McMiniskirt’s profile picture showed her as a heavily made-up blonde sprawled open-legged on a barstool, pretty obviously inebriated, posed to show a rather large amount of cleavage, and said miniskirt had barely made its way to crotch level before refusing to budge an inch further. And she was deeply offended by the idea that a guy on a social networking site might want to network her up a bit.
So, to Blondie McMiniskirt and the many women like her, I have a few things to say.
First, when you put yourself in a public forum, you actually don’t get to choose who with internet access and properly developed corneas finds you attractive. Beauty is, as they say, in the eye of the beholder. If you don’t like that idea, consider not posting a picture of yourself where other people can see it.
Second, when a man does let it be known that he finds you attractive, you do not immediately have to morph into Ultra Mega Icy Venomous Rage of Death Laser Bitch Ray to deter his advances. Sometimes, yes, but not always and certainly not first. Consider trying a gentle but firm “no, thank you” next time.
Third, look at your profile photo and ask yourself this question: “Is this the way I dress/pose/act, at bars/at clubs/on Spring Break, when I’m trying to get laid?” If the answer is yes, you’ve pretty much forfeited the right to be surprised when random internet guys hit on you. Which is not to say you’re obligated to have anything to do with the aforementioned guys, just that you can’t realistically be surprised when they try.
I accepted Steve’s friend request because there was no real reason not to. It’s a social network, and I’m there to be social. I also understand it’s my job to establish and maintain my boundaries on said social network, not Steve’s job to establish them for me or read my mind to figure out what they are. So, when Steve got a bit fresh and forward, I gently but firmly let him know that I’m only that kind of girl for one person and he isn’t it.
(Note to Interns: “Fresh & Forward” as name for progressive combo Burlesque/Farmer’s Market traveling seasonal roadside attraction. Make it happen, please.)
Steve retreated, and it was a non-issue from that point on. All he needed to hear was that his approach from that direction was not welcome.
Now, even when I receive friend requests from people that I’m pretty sure are only sending them because I’m naked on the internet, I still like to at least skim their profiles and see whatever is to be seen, and such was the case with Steve. I skimmed, found a few things that looked intriguing (assuming they’re true), and didn’t see any cause to immediately delete him from my friend list and block him for all eternity. I did, however, see something that I felt needed to be addressed, so this is me, addressing it.
A young woman, who we shall call Blondie McMiniskirt, had posted a rant on Steve’s wall, calling him out for having the audacity to send her a friend request when it was clear that all he wanted to do was chat with random women on the internet, that he just made her sick, how dare he be such a stain on the otherwise unbesmirched landscape that is online social networking, how could he sleep at night when he was single-handedly ruining a better tomorrow for all the children of all the lands with his unmitigated scumbaggery, etc.
Please note that Blondie McMiniskirt’s profile picture showed her as a heavily made-up blonde sprawled open-legged on a barstool, pretty obviously inebriated, posed to show a rather large amount of cleavage, and said miniskirt had barely made its way to crotch level before refusing to budge an inch further. And she was deeply offended by the idea that a guy on a social networking site might want to network her up a bit.
So, to Blondie McMiniskirt and the many women like her, I have a few things to say.
First, when you put yourself in a public forum, you actually don’t get to choose who with internet access and properly developed corneas finds you attractive. Beauty is, as they say, in the eye of the beholder. If you don’t like that idea, consider not posting a picture of yourself where other people can see it.
Second, when a man does let it be known that he finds you attractive, you do not immediately have to morph into Ultra Mega Icy Venomous Rage of Death Laser Bitch Ray to deter his advances. Sometimes, yes, but not always and certainly not first. Consider trying a gentle but firm “no, thank you” next time.
Third, look at your profile photo and ask yourself this question: “Is this the way I dress/pose/act, at bars/at clubs/on Spring Break, when I’m trying to get laid?” If the answer is yes, you’ve pretty much forfeited the right to be surprised when random internet guys hit on you. Which is not to say you’re obligated to have anything to do with the aforementioned guys, just that you can’t realistically be surprised when they try.
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Thank You, from the Bottoms of My Heart & Underwear
Dear Kotex,
The other day, in between bouts of crying over old Calvin & Hobbes comics, screaming obscenities at the neighbor’s dog, Lamaze-breathing my way through paralyzing cramps and consuming every pork product within reach of the couch I refused to leave because of my unshakable belief that the whole world did indeed really care about the monstrosity of a pimple that had sprouted on my chin, I was lamenting just how boring my period has become.
I mean, really. After thirty years, I have to admit the thrill is gone.
So I’m sure you can imagine my reaction to seeing a commercial from your “Take a Stand Against Bland” campaign. Yes, I’ve tried to assuage the boredom of this monthly burden with rollerblading, field frolicking, interpretive ice dance and many of the other activities my previous feminine protection products have assured me they laugh in the face of, but I hadn’t even considered the gathering of a group of my peers to vandalize public property while playing The Ettes at high volume as a possible course of curative action.
And, awesome as that is, it’s not even the part I’m really really excited about.
Just the idea that a piece of absorbent material glued to the crotch of my underwear that no one else ever sees and I myself spend most of the day wanting to not remember is there at all could have pretty colors and swirly designs is, frankly, something I never would have even hoped for.
And now, you have made it a reality. A reality that at long last explains the nagging sense of being somehow unfinished whenever I leave the house accessorized with only the basics of earrings, scarf, purse, anklet, toe ring, hair flower and whatever perfume I believe olfactorily continues my chosen color scheme.
Lo these many years, I have neglected to properly accessorize my vagina during the few days of the month when it is doing everything it can to remind me that it is still there for all of my carrying-on-the-human-race needs. The only comfort I can take is in the knowledge that I am not the only one, and that now, those days can easily be behind me forever.
I really don’t know how to thank you.
Sincerely,
A Consumer
POTENTIAL ICK-INDUCING “T.M.I. THING YOU DON’T LIKE TO THINK ABOUT BUT THAT I CONSIDER MEDICALLY NECESSARY TO MENTION” POST-SCRIPT:
If the unmitigated inanity of this entire concept isn’t enough to make you not use these products, please consider this; changes in the color of menstrual flow and/or vaginal discharge can be a sign that something is wrong and needs to be checked out. Not having these things on a solid white surface just makes them more difficult to recognize. For that reason, I personally consider these products unsafe and would not use them even if they weren’t such a blatant insult to my intelligence. I strongly urge anyone considering using these products to please keep that in mind.
The other day, in between bouts of crying over old Calvin & Hobbes comics, screaming obscenities at the neighbor’s dog, Lamaze-breathing my way through paralyzing cramps and consuming every pork product within reach of the couch I refused to leave because of my unshakable belief that the whole world did indeed really care about the monstrosity of a pimple that had sprouted on my chin, I was lamenting just how boring my period has become.
I mean, really. After thirty years, I have to admit the thrill is gone.
So I’m sure you can imagine my reaction to seeing a commercial from your “Take a Stand Against Bland” campaign. Yes, I’ve tried to assuage the boredom of this monthly burden with rollerblading, field frolicking, interpretive ice dance and many of the other activities my previous feminine protection products have assured me they laugh in the face of, but I hadn’t even considered the gathering of a group of my peers to vandalize public property while playing The Ettes at high volume as a possible course of curative action.
And, awesome as that is, it’s not even the part I’m really really excited about.
Just the idea that a piece of absorbent material glued to the crotch of my underwear that no one else ever sees and I myself spend most of the day wanting to not remember is there at all could have pretty colors and swirly designs is, frankly, something I never would have even hoped for.
And now, you have made it a reality. A reality that at long last explains the nagging sense of being somehow unfinished whenever I leave the house accessorized with only the basics of earrings, scarf, purse, anklet, toe ring, hair flower and whatever perfume I believe olfactorily continues my chosen color scheme.
Lo these many years, I have neglected to properly accessorize my vagina during the few days of the month when it is doing everything it can to remind me that it is still there for all of my carrying-on-the-human-race needs. The only comfort I can take is in the knowledge that I am not the only one, and that now, those days can easily be behind me forever.
I really don’t know how to thank you.
Sincerely,
A Consumer
POTENTIAL ICK-INDUCING “T.M.I. THING YOU DON’T LIKE TO THINK ABOUT BUT THAT I CONSIDER MEDICALLY NECESSARY TO MENTION” POST-SCRIPT:
If the unmitigated inanity of this entire concept isn’t enough to make you not use these products, please consider this; changes in the color of menstrual flow and/or vaginal discharge can be a sign that something is wrong and needs to be checked out. Not having these things on a solid white surface just makes them more difficult to recognize. For that reason, I personally consider these products unsafe and would not use them even if they weren’t such a blatant insult to my intelligence. I strongly urge anyone considering using these products to please keep that in mind.
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