The Systematic Decline of a Feminist Unicorn

Turns out I lucked out in rooming with Patty. I had a really shitty lottery number and would have been put on the housing wait list. The fates were working in my favor...or so it seemed...

Patty and I take the same writing class. Each student in the class has to pick a story by a published author, then we read it and collectively discuss it, blah blah blah. So I picked a story called Nilda, by Junot Diaz.

The girl Nilda, is kind of a tragic character, in that she is a stupid, whore by circumstance and ultimately fails at life.

Patty: I didn't like your story, Sassy. It was sad. :(

Me: Yeah I know, that's kinda the point.

Patty: Yeah but, Nilda is sad.

Me: Mhmm, she's supposed to be.

Patty: But she's like objectified and dumb and the narrator doesn't even care.

Me: The narrator is in love with her in spite of her dumbness and he is not even the one using her in the story.

Patty: Yeah, but...I just don't like Junot Diaz as a person.

Me: You just want every woman to be objectified so you can complain about it!

Patty: :( :( :( *laughs* :( *gets reeses peanut butter cups and sits in the closet*

Patty is fat and sad so this is her natural response to being put in her place. I broke her. The problem here is that I am already starting to crack XD. The problem here is that Patty thinks every woman who fails at life can be excused for frivolously sucking cock because we live in a patriarchal society that is systematically oppressing women.

In some ways this is true. But if you are going to excuse the girl for being a dumb bitch because she is objectified, then you have to excuse the misogynist for being oppressive since he was brought up in a society that condoned such behavior.

Wavering women of their cuntiness because of society is basically conceding that all women are stupid whores and have no agency. According to Patty, I can go around killing people for delicious Zebra Cakes and it's not my fault because I am a product of society.

So at the end of the day, Patty is fat, sad and stupid. And when she steals your bucket of gravy, she'll just say: "SOCIETY MADE ME DO IT RAAAARRRRGH!!!!!XD"

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Art School Masturbation

You ever walk into a place and instantly know that someone has just done something really gross in there? But you can't exactly put your finger on it, so you kind of ignore it, while at the same time you imagine every possible scenario of nasty shit that could have gone on in there?

No.

Well fine then...*Leaves*

*Comes back with cupcake and coffee*

Now that you're over your little hissy fit, I'll continue.

The private study rooms at my school are gross. They're not really THAT gross, I mean they all kind of smell like cheese and curry, but we don't talk about that. They're basically tiny rooms, with a desk and chair that you "study," in. Or "mastubatoriums." There are about six or seven of them in the library. I work in the library as a shelver and my job doesn't really take as much time as the three hour shift I have to work, so I basically hide in the mastubatoriums for an hour until my shift is over.

The masturbatoriums are filled with pencil graffiti which you'd think would be fun to read except my school is lame so everyone just writes "poetry," on the walls.

Anyway, twice a year, during the end of the semester my school has this "anon" thing on live journal where people anonymously post things about the school and students. Pretty much everything is "X has a stinky pussy" and "Y is a douche bag," which is exactly what I want to hear. But there was also another topic about public masturbation and apparently everyone in my school just jerks off all willy nilly, which I of course expect. And of course the private study rooms at the library were the places most jerked off in. The bathrooms in the library were "hot spots,"too. But there were also really public places.

There is this giant porch thing in the middle of the north lawn or "quad" as you crazy kids may call it. It's supposed to be "art" but it's just a fucking porch, except NOT IN FRONT OF A HOUSE! OH SHIT, THAT'S IRONIC!!!11one Anyway people said they jerked off there, which is weird because it's in such a huge open space.

A couple weeks ago there was a report from the "security office" about some guy going around knocking on the library windows and jerking off on the other side of the glass while people watched. Apparently the girl this happened to was offended and reported it to the police or security or whoever the big black guy in the purple windbreaker with a walkie-talkie works for, personally I think he was just being altruistic. It takes one to masturbate, but two to change the world! (I don't know where I was going with that...they can't all be gems)

The moral of the story is, people in art schools are so pretentious that books give them hard-ons or at least they like to tell people that.

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The Infamous N Word

So there is this huge sign in front of my cafeteria. They use it to advertise events and I remember a couple of months ago they painted a giant vagina on it to promote the Vagina Monologues at our school. And so a couple of days ago it read THE INFAMOUS N WORD to promote a lecture and seminar we would have about well, the nigg**(er) word.

Really big it said: THE INFAMOUS N WORD, but peppered around it were the words "NIGGER, NIGGY, NEGRIS, NEGRO" all over, all different flavors of "n-words." They really were just trying to emphasize a point here, or someone got "nigger happy" and was simply carried away-- years of holding that in for one EXPLOSIVE release...

So I go into the Cafeteria where delicious (shit) food awaits me and none other then one of the 10 "n-words," that attend my school is standing in line in front of me. And to my surprise but not with out expectation, the "n word" is talking about the "n-word" sign outside. Now this girl, this negris, if you will--I'll give you a brief synopsis of who she is from what I know--which is only what my mind has concocted from a loose basis of reality.

The negris, would like to be referred to as: The Scribe--yes she wants you to call her this. The Negris performed spoken word at the beginning of the year that went a little something like this:

"I am black. I am a woman. AAAAAAAAARGH. Don't be hatin'. RESPECT me. BLAH BLAH BLAH AFFIRMATIVE ACTION BLAHBLAHBLAH WHITEY BASTARD BABYS MAMA WAAAAAH FEAR ME N WORD N WORD"

And well, you can decide who she is from those tidbits of information. Now, I'm standing in line and she is in front of me talking to the Cafeteria Manager who swipes our meal plan cards about the N word. He looks bored. She is saying: "Well I just don't like when anyone says it. It especially irks me when black people say it..." I roll my eyes. And she gives me this weird look.

The same weird look she always gives me. I am Dominican and people often mistake me for black because I have brown skin. /shrug. Well, there are literally about 10 "n-words" that attend the college I go to. From the very first orientation week they all gravitated toward each other, "YOU'RE JUST LIKE ME LOLOLOL [insert self conscious black joke]."

Whenever I see said group they give me this funny look like I have betrayed them. Like somehow I got this absurd, "let's segregate ourselves, that won't be weird at all, lollercopter," memo and crumpled it up in their faces. The point of this post is, anyone who has the audacity to get upset by NIGGER usage should not be blatantly separating themselves from everyone else who is white.

Also "THE SCRIBE" is from NYC, I could understand if she was from some crazy racist, middle of nowhere place, but c'mon nigga you be seein' all diff'rent kinds a' peeps in yah block erryday. Pretentious, afro-centric, righteous bitch. No one cares that you are black. Slavery is over. There is no "The Man," only the one you use as an excuse to act like an asshole. NO ONE IS LISTENING, HO.

In essence: Get over your black, nigga.

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Roommate Blues

So you have two roommates. Let's call them, Patty and Sue. Sue you don't really "connect," with and that's okay. After trying to be friends you realize this will not happen, so you are mostly just roommates, perhaps even acquaintances and there are little things that you may find annoying about each other; Sue is too bossy for absolutely no reason and you don't feel obligated to listen to her so you kind of do whatever you want and this annoys her, but who cares? Not friends, just acquaintances. Fine.

Patty on the other hand is your friend. Whether you'd like to believe this or not, she has decided that you are friends. BEST FRIENDS. So she drips and leaks her love of unicorns and sparkles all over you. About her dream band "fluffy kitten cuddle time," and how she'd like to wear a onesie all year long instead of clothing...

Patty uses phrases like:

"I have a delicate constitution."

"Your bagel does not have an appropriately sized hole." (Not an innuendo, she says this about your bagels)

"My life is soooo hard."

You put up with this because she is your roommate. You don't need to make things difficult. Patty sees this tolerance as "friendship." Fine, Patty is crazy, HAPPYTIMECRAZYBOOS. You can live with that, right?

But it gets better...

Patty cries all the time...commercials, news articles, My Chemical Romance music videos, episodes of Torchwood and The Office...all these things make her cry. Patty pretends to be bisexual but she is really a Dykey hyper feminist. She says things like:

"You need to broaden your horizons. Most people function on bisexual gender binaries." >=/

"I hate it when people say they aren't a feminist, everyone should be a feminist, god damnit." >=/

"Stop otherizing yourself." >=/

"Why is the world so awful?" >=/

Patty has mood swings. She punched a brick wall and came back with her knuckles bloodied. She locks herself in the closet for hours on end. She sulks and squeaks like a child. Patty flat out refuses to talk to people. She simply CANNOT talk to people on the phone to order food, at a store to ask where something is located and most certainly not in any social situation.

Patty awkwardly pulls you away when anyone SHE doesn't know tries to engage in what most of us humans refer to as a "conversation." Patty refers to these situations as: "EVILPEOPLESADFACEBABYCRYTIME."

Patty wants to be your roommate next year because she is too scared to meet other people. You say "yes," because you don't want to make her cry. But in your head you know the answer is "no." You know that when the time comes you will hand in your housing form and where it says "Write the name of who you'd like to live with," you're going to leave that section blank.

"Let the fates decide!" You say with glee! AND BOY HOWDY have they made up their minds!

You go to your housing lottery, snickering in your mind, knowing that next year you will be free of the reigns of "fluffy kitten cuddle time." But when you get there you are shadowed with this ominous feeling...bad luck is in the air...

"You don't need your forms!" The woman says. "All you need is who you're living with." Patty is satisfied with this.

A small part of your heart shrivels into an ashen, black clump of dust. You vomit a little bit in your mouth, but manage to hide this with a forced smile. The two of you best buddies (DIE!!!!PATTY DIE!!!!!) pick your room for next year. It's pretty good, anything is better than the shit hole you live in now...

But that doesn't really matter considering you have just died. Yep, you just died...And since this post wasn't enough to properly express your anger...here's a song you made a while ago about the situation...yeah YOU made it...not me...silly...this isn't even about me...this is just JOKES in case anyone is reading this...that shouldn't be...

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Love and Sex with Robot (Children)

So, I am taking this class where we basically discuss how the integration of certain technologies, i.e.: Genetic Screening/ Engineering, Cloning, Cyborgs, Artificial Intelligence, etc. will effect us as a society, should they be implemented. We have to look at arguments for and against each of the technologies.

Well, this week we had to read the book Love+Sex with Robots, by David Levy. I didn't like the book. Not because I am against the sexing of robots, I just didn't care for the argumentation. Not the point.

A major argument of the book is that conscious robots will be able to supplement the deviant desires of pedophiles and rapists and people with all those (FUN XD!!!) fucked up sexual fantasies. This logically makes sense, Old Man wants delicious Hot (pre) Teenage Cock, but cannot has, so he gets himself a (SEXY) nice, pre-pubescent boy robot. In theory this makes sense, man touches robot-boy instead of real-boy, less fucked up kids. A+.

But the whole point of the book is that robots will be able to simulate humans to the point where we perceive them as human. And so, when making these boy-bots (or girl, but boy-bots has a ring to it) in order for them to be passable as little boys, we will have to program them to react to molestation the way any normal boy would. Otherwise, molestors would just go for the real thing right?

So these boys would have to sob and protest and freeze up and how fucking creepy is that, right? But even if we do that, we have these little boy-bots specially made for sexin' and it is fundamentally good for society...if you knew a guy with one of these "toys." These human passable, little kids, made specifically for fucking...could you honestly be friends with this person?

Said person is not doing anything wrong, said person is probably a victim of circumstance (it's not his fault he wants to touch kids) and if anything, given his givens, he is doing the RIGHT thing. Still creepy though... And maybe it isn't the fact that the individual is creepy, maybe the fact that we even have to make these fucked up toys is creepy because we have to acknowledge how fucked up the human condition can be.

Just a thought...

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How to Alienate Your Readers (For Your Own Self Interest)

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P.S. Sunny Delight commercials are just fucking weird.

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How to Write (When You've Got Nothing to Write About)

When ever I say, "I don't have anything to write about."

Some smart ass says, "Well write about that."

And then I say, "WAAAAIIIIIIT A MINUTE, YOU CAN--woah--hold on a second--YOU CAN WRITE ABOUT NOT BEING ABLE TO--whAAAAAt--slow down, buddy, cuz you're outta control with these gems."

This is when said person proceeds to knife me in the clavicle for being such a bitch allll the tiiiiime. He was just trying to help, jeeeeeze.

Writer's block sucks ass. Writing in general kind of sucks ass, no matter how much you like it. Everything that I've ever read about writing or heard about how to write, has basically been the same. It's either really technical like: Think of a topic. Write an outline. Focus on one character, blah, blah, etc.

It's either this or oober artsy fartsy rigmarole like: "You know ... just ... write...like...when i write, it just like comes out of me...once i start it's just...you know...i just start and then i'm finished...it's just like a stream of conscious...I don't even--like try...you know what I'm sayin."

Riiiight. We all know what you're saying, that your story is just one long ass sentence about your thoughts on delicious Pizza Lunchables and how bad ass it would be if you had a segway and then like you imagine, like what if there was like this secret segway society, except there's like these gangs--these segway gangs that like fight each other in the parking lot of Wendy's except now since they're open late, you have to take it to The Streets...and this one time you saw Chris Farley at Sears, but it could have been that fucking baby...

When you ask any writer how they write or about their creative process, they basically say, "I dunno, I just write." I say this. Of course it's bull shit. I could easily describe the process I have to go through to write a fiction story, but I won't, it's far too complex, pretentious and beyond the cognitive ability of anyone who reads this blog, assuming of course, that you all have fetal alcohol syndrome from your meth addict, strumpet mothers.

Yup, I'm pretty sure that's my demographic and that you've only stumbled upon this blog through the keywords: Bacon and Doritos and that you're not even reading this, you've merely printed the pages out to eat them. I bet the librarian is staring at you (because you're homeless and this is the only way you can have access to a computer or what you call "MAGIC FOOD MACHINE.") Put down the RANCH DRESSING (you might be black, too***) SIR, THIS BLOG ISN'T FOOD...it's not food..and shoelaces aren't spaghetti...

Anyway, the short of it is, when it comes to writing, there is only so much anyone that isn't you can do to help you. The problem most people have is not trusting themselves and leaving out what they think is cool because they are too scared others won't. When it comes down to it most of what you write will suck and sometimes it won't.

And that, my maggots is how you write, when you've got nothing to write about! I'll be here all night!

***Racist Joke.

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How to Offend People and Not Even Know It

So, I'm kind of a bitch alllllllll the time. I've been this way my whole life and never really noticed it. I apparently say really offensive things with out knowing that they are offensive (you're not supposed to say CUNT because it's a nasty word , who knew?!). Well, growing up I would do this thing where I decided it was completely my responsibility to tell people how their personalities are inherently flawed and put them in their place.

I enjoyed this because I thought I was making a difference in the world. When I used to tell that bible-hugging, ig-nant, bitch in junior high school that evolution was no longer a theory, but a well-known, accepted fact and that God didn't exist, in my head I thought she would go home and wikipedia (I don't know if wiki existed then) some shit and learn the error of her preachy-ass ways.

But honestly, my instigating opinions really do stem from genuine concern, I mean, I'd like for you to not be stupid, perhaps for selfish reasons, but you'd only benefit in the long run.

Fat runs in my family. I don't mean this in a superficial way. I mean unhealthy, diabetes, high cholesterol, if I licked your sweaty fat face it would taste like delicious bacon and Blue Cheese Doritos. I am hispanic and hispanic people have no sense of portions and the only reason they would ever drink water is because they get it on tap for free and could not afford soda/alcoholic beverages/malt drinks/sugary juices, otherwise.

With age comes wisdom and so, I've learned to be more subtle in voicing my concerns.

FattyFamMember: You going to eat that?
Me: No.
FFM: Can I have it then?
Me: No.
FFM: Why not?
Me: Fat.
FFM: Whuh ?
Me: FAT!!! Run back and forth in the hallway 10 times and I'll give it to you.
FFM: What?
Me: I SAID FAAAAAAAT!!! Run back and forth 10 times and I will give you this porkchop, FAT.
FFM: :(
Me: That's what I thought, FAT. (Gives porkchop to dog.)

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Brunch

Brunch. Whoever invented brunch--give that guy a bucket of monies! It's really just pretend breakfast or rather breakfast for lazy people who don't got time for that "mornin' business." Whatever slacker, stoner, lazy fuck decided breakfast in the middle of the day was a good idea-- we could totes hangout and have funsies we can put our mouths straight on the nacho cheese/slurpee nozzle at the 7/11 and make fun of muffin tops and people that think it's okay to wear these . Ironically, only classy people eat brunch, pinkies up and "Yes I'd like a slice of cantelope." (Not really.) I'm fuckin' fancy.

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The Crazies Love the Sass

So, I have this problem. I like the sound of words...hence the me being a writer shenanigans. So, there isn't anything more satisfying than hearing people talk, even people I hate, they can just talk and talk and talk at me and I will listen. I think it's important to listen because you get to understand people and how they function and blah blah blah etc. and that's important because I'm a writer. The issue with this is that crazy, insecure people who think no one is listening to them unload their years of emotional baggage on me, and I listen (I like juicy gossip I cannot help it) and often provide my objective opinion, whether they ask for it or not. And for whatever crazy reason, these people-- the maggots-- consider this to be "friendship."

First of all, if you are crazy, you probably have no friends and if you do they are not me. They are other crazy people, crazy people only understand crazy people the way drunks understand other drunks and babies understand other babies.

Secondly, when you constantly open up to someone, often have to be the one to start a conversation with them and they barely talk to you, how could you consider this person your friend?

Lastly, this is all my fault. All of these things are my fault. I don't have to listen to the crazies, do I? I could just walk away...just walk away, Sassy, you're not obligated to these fucktards. But alas, they have such good stories...My ex-best friend was abused by her boyfriend, but felt inclined to stay with him out of the guilt of having been cheating on him with 8 guys on a regular basis. As punishment, her boyfriend organized a list of ways to get her back, some of these fun penances were:

1) Put "it" in your butt for an hour.
2)Deep throat for 5 minutes, 8 times.
3) I'll (the boyfriend) cut myself 15 times.
4)I'll (the boyfriend) kill your brother.
5)I'll (BF) kill myself.
6)I get to sleep with 3 other people.

And P.S. I (the BF) get to beat the shit out of you every now and again, but don't worry it's because I love you too much and you don't love me enough.

Well, anyway she had to pick a couple of those, I know she did number 2 and burped when he pulled out...We're not friends anymore. So my whole life I've been meeting people like this, people who are so incredibly fucked up and just need to complain at someone, who ends up being me. And I think I've grown up a bit since me and that streetwalker's friendship ended around a year ago. The crazies keep finding me but now I say, "NO YOU GO AWAY CRAZY BOOS."

Unfortunately my roommate is one of these, a different brand of crazy that I will get into in a later post. Because we live together and have to live together (in college) I decided I'll put up with this. The problem is she wants to live together again next year and she would DIE if I said no, probably not, but. How do you say "There is no reason why I don't want to live with you. You are generally a good roommate. I just hate major parts of your personality and cannot peacefully coexist with you for another year." How do I say that, except....not like that...

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