Men in Pink???

IDK what's wrong with me. I saw the title, knew that whatever the fuck was to follow would be inflammatory and now, I feel flames. I cannot even comment or read the comments for fear of exploding.

It opens with a slap in the face i.e "women's work" is obsolete (except that me saying this is underhanded and pretty much proving that it isn't. Because you know exactly what kind of work I'm taking about. Holding babies and shit.)

 And follows up with a "just in case you see right through this veiled attempt of sexism" some women are successful.

*queue the women 'that made it.' list*

But look out, because they didn't just make it! They took it from males! Males who did not take the extra step in getting higher degrees or better certified or pursuing xyz.  It's a role-reversal.

Because men do X. And women to Z. And when they switch it isn't just idk men doing what men do and women doing what women do as though either gender/sex has a claim on any particularly action (besides peeing standing up. Which is really C00L).

Moving on to something so misogynistic that I cannot even attempt to exemplify it. Therefore I quote:

men have been finding their way through the old girls’ network for over a decade.

And you wanna know why? Because there are no more jobs for men! They're gone. So men have to do women's work. No matter what. It's not at all like Zoolander. Where idk maybe men are interested in building relationships with patients (men who are nurses) or men giving a damn about future generations (men who are teachers) or idk here's something that might blow a mind, they're skill set is more suited to certain position regardless of the stereotype this super unbias journalist is perpetuating?

Couldn't be. No, this recession has only affected jobs for men. Jobs for women are primo (I've been unemployed for like forever). But this started before the recession right? Do you mean the recession before the depression before the recession? Or the recession before the recession before the depression before the recession? Because unless you're talking about the fucking 90s, the economy for ALL OF THE FIRST DECADE of the millennium has been in the tank.

More quotes because I cannot even try to put this in my own words without blowing a gasket. I quote:

The kicker is that men tend to earn more than women even in these female-dominated fields. White males in particular may get a ride on the glass elevator, moving up through a professional hierarchy while women in traditionally male-dominated jobs are more likely to hit the glass ceiling.

The kicker? Is this a game to you? Peoples'--who are both men and women--livelihoods are at stake. Statements of the fact are one thing, necessary even to establish a baseline in meaningful dialogue. That shit right there is a dismissal. It's a mean-spirited threat for women to know that they will always be second class. It is inspiringly ignorant, discriminatory, and shows a tactless regard for human rights, equality, and treating others with dignity.

And you don't want me to hate? You want me to like this? To think it's acceptable? Acceptable to parade around misogyny or at the very minimum turn a statistical fact into fodder and means to promote unguided braggadocio?

Last quote:

Give a white man a fighting chance. 

GET A FUCKING HISTORY BOOK. A BOOK ABOUT HISTORY ANYWHERE AT ANY TIME ABOUT ANY SUBJECT WRITTEN AT ANY DATE.

Holy fucking chauvinist. This guys name is actually Dick. It's one thing to have privilege. It's another thing to excuse it and coddle it and wave it around laughing that other men don't have it anymore. I mean what the fuck is that. This guy isn't just a misogynist. He's a misanthropist and it is a terrible shame offensive to people--both men and women--everywhere.

Rant/

note: I can't even proofread right now.

The Perfect Guy

He'd have Matt Bomer Hair:

And I don't know what else. Matt Bomer everything?

photo by way of un amie and EW

Donut Spam

I just wanna lose like 10 lbs and take a nap.

Clarification: The Round Robin has turned into a monster. My hands hurt from typing so much. I have so much work to do and so many decisions to make.

It's okay though. I just went in my bathroom and cried.

The Picture Proves Otherwise

In honor of my new layout and the 654932⁵⁴³³ times I've listen Black and Gold by Sam Sparro this week, I give you entry three...

You know how children think they can fly, but in reality they can't? And how that unassailable view of themselves extends to all facets of their life including fashion? I'm talking about that developmental time in a kid's life during self-discovery where anything goes until it doesn't. The time where pink is the new blue and orange is all the rage and I hate hate polka dots, but I absolutely must have stripes. And zebras.

This proving to be quite the set-up... One such unshakable moment in my childhood occurred on a Sunday morning with my dad. Per the now voided custodial agreement, I had spent the weekend at his house and while I'm certain I had too much fun, too much parenting, and too many sweets, I did not have too many clothes.

Or at least I didn't have too many clothes that would pass the I-have-taste test. Well...I'll just post the picture so you can harshly judge me as I deserve:

Exhibit A: My Parents Do Not Love Me

I'm not really sure why parents listen to their children. For one that dress is fucking humongous. It's faux velvet with gold applique!!!!!!! *OMG dies a millions time* I look like a bar maiden crossed with a Medieval scallywag. This whole look is erroneous. I mean, I know there are worse things in the world besides white, patterned tights (paired with obviously black dresses), but I can't help but feel that this is a travesty.

The kicker is, I distinctly remember being SO PROUD of how I looked that day. I just thought it was THE BEST OUTFIT EVER IN THE HISTORY OF OUTFITS EVERYWHERE. AND EVERYONE TAKE A PICTURE OF THIS FOR POSTERITY. THIS LOOK CANNOT BE ALLOWED TO DIE OUT. SERIOUSLY.

I mean look at my body language--my hands on my non-hips (should've enjoyed that longer), the boastful shoulders heighten by the puffy sleeves, the erect, miniscule posture, the averted gaze like "I'm too posh to look into the camera..." Just WTF was going on that people let this happen?

I mean I have a wrapping paper bow in my hair.

Enough said.

My Soulmate in Belt Form

Sometimes love happens in the most unexpected ways. You're walking along in Walmart and you see some Post-Its for $1.00, you can't find your debit card so you have pay for gas with hard currency and happen upon a new flavor of V8 Fusion, or you think you're going in the wrong direction only to find out you, in fact took a short-cut. All these little moments, they coalesce into something beautiful, something moving, and they affect you deep to your heart-of-hearts and teach you the significance and meaning of life. You're content. You're happy. You're satisfied. You wake up in the morning, eat a jelly donut, maybe some chocolate chip waffles. What could be better?

A shopping trip.