I am a Woman, I am Waaaahndeerful, I am Gagging: An exploration of the exploitation of feminist philosophies, after which we all get drunk and cry

Feminism is great. No, really, it is. But if you want to know why feminism ISN'T great, maybe go see the dance I saw last night. In my opinion, running around doing poorly choreagraphed movements of reasonably ill-rehearsed dance and waxing over-dramatic on how much you as an upper middle class American woman connect with your poor-downtrodden sisters in Africa whose vaginas have been blown apart by grenades isn't feminism, it's culturally essentialised neocolonialism. And yes, I really just wanted to use the words essentialization and neocolonialism in one sentence, but despite my intellectual snobbery and useless vocabulary, it happens to be true. Honestly, if you HAVE to do bad choreography, and you REALLY have to buy in to male bashing, "sisterhood" proclaiming, first wave feminist crap, can you at least be well enough rehearsed to make the dancing enjoyable?

On the other hand, I had the best meal of my life last night. Punch pizza, borgata, oh my god. And espresso's which should really be incorporated along with the tira misu into everybody's sex life in some way. Seriously, we'd all be more sexually fulfilled if we drank this espresso every day. To top it all off, it wasn't expensive and our waiter was rather attractive. So, all in all, a very fulfilling, and now that I've written it out, seemingly sexually suggestive, meal.

Finally, Isabelle's going away party, which was fun, filled with lots of people I didn't know dancing around, and resulted in me drinking amazing pina coladas and attempting to dispense with the memories of the aforementioned pre-1970's feminist man hating crap in a haze of fuzzy pineappleness.

All-in-all, an eventful and reasonably successful evening, which allowed me, for the time, to forget about the astounding amount of work I have, the completion of which will commence forthwith.

With love in my heart and a spirit of the universal sisterhood,

Megan

Revolution, I say!! And am immediately eaten by my own kind in an act of extreme cannabilsm

Revolution, how I loathe thee, let me count the ways. For all I care all of you disenfranchised, oppressed people living under dictatorial rule can just keep suffering because it is revolution which is going to be the death me. To speak frankly, if you believe much of what we read in class, it's probably revolution that's going to be the death of you too if you were to start one. So don't. Or if you must, and I mean, there better be some pretty hardcore torture going on or something, can you at least look at this formula we have for our class and try to go by that. I don't mind if you flee the country before you get to the part where the revolution gobbles it's young, but can you just stick to the formula? Yeah. Thanks.

I am writing a paper. Sort of. I mean, I'm supposed to be writing a paper and in some ways I am, but problematically not getting very far. I have eaten almonds and yogurt covered pretzles, consumed large amounts of caffeine, and am currently mainlining tea, basically because I don't have coffee and it has SOME caffeine. Swanee and I proposed drugs to complete the assignment, but decided that I wouldn't get very far if I was hallucinating about shiny little purple men walking on my face. Don't ask where that image came from, because I don't know, but I think it's funny, so I blogged about it.

Honestly, I'm not completely clear on the purpose of this blog. I mean, everybody who knows me well enough to care about the fact that I'm up at 2:15 in the morning less than 2 pages into a 7-10 page paper already KNOWs that I'm up at 2:15 in the morning less than 2 pages into a 7-10 page paper, so I wonder who will realistically be reading this, but it feels kind of good to write it so I think that maybe I will do this more often.

Alright, back to the paper and an intense discussion of whether Czechoslovakia followed the revolutionary narrative and if they didn't why not and why that's interesting. Tonight on the late show: Who The Hell Cares?!?! Featuring Marilyn Manson and bingo the backflipping dog.

Who, me, frustrated? Nah.

Peace babies.

Megan

A Minor Tretis On the Effects of Poverty on Dental Hygiene

So, this is the part where we all don't ask about my title and just trust that in my benevolent wisdom I have your best interests at heart. I'm a lot like Stalin in that way. Benevolent, wise, with your best interests at heart. You know, Stalin, Jesus, whoever.

WELCOME TO MY BLOG WITH A SILLY NAME!!!

This is a place where should you want to keep up with me but, you know, not actually have to interact with me, you have your chance. Yes, that's right, this blog provides a unique opportunity for you to give a shit about what's going on in my life, but not actually care all that much about me, or even, actually like me all the much to begin with. So, read away oh lover of the evasive relationship, and feel satisfied in the knowledge that I probably care about as much about you as you do about me, and yet, I am intensely curious about the goings on of your life, or, you know, not.