Category Archives: gender roles

Mad Men Musings

i know.
i’m way behind.
and all i have to say for myself is “
what the shit?”

how have i not watched this show before?  between the fantastic clothes and the blatant stereotypes – i just can’t get enough.  not to mention that shitler keeps giving me pointed looks when women are complacently serving the men-folk and he keeps trying to convince me that those were simpler, better times because of it.  too bad he was unlucky enough to snag me and instead of making grand dinners every night of the week i go on obsessive bouts of making dozens of batches of champagne cupcakes.  

but that’s neither here nor there.  because at least he’s getting fucking cupcakes, right?

here are a few things i’ve observed from season one:

1. peggy is a slut.  a whiny one.
2. joan is a slut.  but i like it.
3. women are stupid as evidenced by this quote: “now try not to be overwhelmed by all this technology.  it looks complicated, but the men who designed it made it simple enough for a woman to use.”  FYI – they’re talking about a goddamn typewriter.
4. if you’re pregnant you should chain smoke and drink.
5. don draper is a pimp – fucking droppin’ panties left and right.
6. it’s perfectly acceptable to hit another person’s child.
7. drinking at work makes you more productive and is highly encouraged.

i counted how many times people lit up a cigarette in one episode.  i gave up after 33.

but regardless of how hilarious the stereotypes are there are some words of wisdom from mr. draper.
my two favorite?  these:

mourning is just extended self-pity.”


you’re born alone, you die alone, and this world just drops a bunch of rules on top of you to make you forget those facts.  but i never forget.  i’m living like there’s no tomorrow, because there isn’t one.”


there is something i would like to amend.  when roger declares that
we drink because it’s what men do.”
i’d like to be included in that statement.  it’s my right.

also – i’ve decided to highlight which characters i would have relations with and which ones i would not.  

enjoy.  or just “Xout of this blog now.  i wouldn’t blame you.

i wish i could say that i was going to spend the weekend watching every possible season of mad men that i could get my hands on – but i can’t.  because shitler is out town (this might be the only time i have ever been upset about this) and he would murder me if i watched it without him.

instead – i’ll obsess over the tudors.


shitler called me on his way out of town with this thought:

shitler: all day long i’ve been thinking about more ways i can be like don draper.  and i’ve decided that i’m going to go have fun this weekend and you’re going to stay home and clean.  this way i’m that much closer.

me: whatever.

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Because I Like When Shitler Pretends To Be Randy Orton

ever forget about the nonsensical pictures on your phone?

story.of. my life.

considering i have other 3,000 of them.  it’s a serious problem.

i re-discovered these gems today.

in which i think i’m a photographer.

this fucking dog and her sitting.

shitler looks bashful and b is far too excited about that yarn.

because i don’t know why jesus and the miz wouldn’t hang out.

i’ve become strangely obsessed with the apex predator.

totally. serious.

An Homage to the Fact That We’ve Been Together Too Goddamn Long

16 and 15 respectively.

a tad sassier.

because i thought he would look good with corn rows and apparently my smile is trying to eat my face.

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Shitler v. Lincoln

shitler informed me the other night that he would prefer to not be referred to as such anymore.  

i say – if the shoe fits.

let’s take it to the masses.  what do you prefer?

here’s a photo of shitler trying his second bloody mary of all time.  he’s convinced that he needs to start liking them.  even though he doesn’t like them.  



I’m Pretty Into Meat

one time i thought it would be interesting to try going vegetarian for a month.  that didn’t work.  mainly because i fucking love meat.

so i made some meatloaf for lincoln the other night.

here is my night in meat-related photos.


the meat hand cometh.


then chuck tried to entice me with his body:

give me your meat.


but i stayed strong and pressed on.

raw meat doused in ketchup sure looks delicious.

my finished masterpiece.

 and then i made tabouli – which is completely un-meat-related.

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i recently finished what i would say is my new favorite book.

sharp objects
by gillian flynn

it is supremely fucked up and all things terrible.  an incredible twist focusing on women as nasty, conniving characters.  none of this women being victims bullshit or simply that women are on the receiving end of awful behavior and the results of said awful behavior.  in this book, women are presented as horrible human beings – hell bent on inflicting pain and damage if it benefited them.  we very seldom see women presented as they are in this book and it’s quite refreshing.  and if you’d like, the author wrote a little essay about her book here.

for the love of all that’s holy – read this fucking book.
because it has everything.  drug use, sexual exploits, creepy, fucked up small town bullshit, deep seated family issues, murder, psychological issues, etc.

there is something about the way the author writes that makes you sympathize and hate all at the same time.  not to mention that although some parts are completely fucked up – you can’t help but judge yourself a little because at one point in your life – you’ve thought along those exact same lines.

the quote below is like an honest slap in the face.  because who doesn’t or hasn’t used alcohol as a buffer, an excuse, an escape, or as a way to cope?

“i’ve always been partial to the image of liquor as lubrication – a layer of protection from all the sharp objects in your head.”

not to mention that it simply refuses to let women be standby characters.  it pushes back when it tries to pigeon-hole women as soft characters.  it serves to prove that women be just as sick, sadistic, and fucked up as many male characters can be.  it’s nice to be able to read something that’s not so cliche when it comes to women.

this book forces you to face some of the awful truths about the character of women and that those personality traits, to some extent, exist in all of us.

who doesn't want to read a book with a fucking razor blade on the cover?

“sometimes i think illness sits inside every woman, waiting for the right moment to bloom.  i have known so many sick women all my life.  women with chronic pain, with ever-gestating diseases.  women with conditions.  men, sure, they have bone snaps, they have backaches, they have a surgery or two, yank out a tonsil, insert a shiny plastic hip.  women get consumed.”

Sick, Fucked Up Books Make For Great Reads

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Dear Chingy – I Miss You

remember chingy?

i do.


hey girl.

back in college, N and i used to listen to him and ludacris while we raped mario kart and donkey kong on the super nintendo.

for whatever reason, the other night i got some chingy song stuck in my head and tried to serenade lincoln. then i tried to make him watch the video.

he wasn’t having it.

but i bet you’ll have it:

that’s some powerful shit.

ps. the end is my favorite part. with all the hoes.

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Martha Motherfucking Stewart

i’ve been sewing. 

and i’m happy to report that i still have all of my fingers and they haven’t been sewn together.  so in my opinion – even if i didn’t have anything to show for my endeavors – i’m still winning.

so here’s my baby. 
i haven’t named her yet.  i’m taking suggestions.

she's so damn good looking.

i’ve been to joann fabrics two, too many times and spent far too much money. 
it may or may not be my new favorite place.

some of my haul.

here are my first two projects.  they took me forever.  mainly because i’m terrible at re-threading the machine and have to have lincoln do it for me. 
he gets real annoyed. 

here's a placemat i'll never use. but it's cute.


a seat cushion for my ass. because that chair is damn uncomfortable.

i’ve been mildly successful.  and i like that.
i’ve got a lot on my list of things to make.
more placemats.
weird things for the cat to wear.
the opportunities are endless.  well.  there is a limit.  because i’m not good and my projects still tend to look like shit.
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On The Night You Were Born

your mother and i reminisced about that time we had sex and conceived you. 

like these polar bears:

i resisted the urge to buy this children's book today.

Four Goddamn Hours Later

i embarked on a sewing machine project this afternoon.  it took me four hours.  and this is all i have to show for it:

it would be great if you voted.  that way i know the temperature of the crowd and i can go in that creative direction for my next projects.

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