Fuck Those Bitches

Thievery Corporation, originally uploaded by SisterSafetyPin.

The most ridiculously disrespectful thing I've read today comes from a female buzzer that shall remain nameless. [Truly I've already forgotten her name, to insure I can't pass it around for open mocking.] The quote?

"I have decided that I have a problem with Feminists. Not feminism, that's all well and good - but feminists... fuck those bitches"

...Ok? So how about this, you go back in time and tell the women that faced constant degradation to insure you could: Vote, get a real Education, retain personal Wealth, have some say in what goes on with your Body.... That you're down for the cause, but you'd be just as happy living in a society where you literally considered a ward of your husband.

Then come back to the present day and tell the women that continue to: try and raise awareness for women's issues, attempt to raise awareness to the fact that while there are more women with higher degrees and in the professional-non-working-class arena they still get paid noticeably less then their male counterparts... That you're down for the cause and appreciate all of the belittling they get while trying to work for the good of all women and men* ...But they really need to realize they're nothing more then dogs on the street.

I mean, that's fair right? And it absolutely makes since. Much like this next sentence will.

I have decided that I have a problem with Green foods. Not broccoli, that's actually pretty good - but green foods... Gross.

Made sense, right? Right? Bueller?

and Men* = Feminism by it's very nature, by it's very purpose... Is for the good and equality of of all genders. Not to elevate women to a position higher then men. After all, when you do away with female stereotypes... You similarly do away with male stereotypes



Yum!, originally uploaded by SisterSafetyPin.

I've recently come to the conclusion that being a foodie is expensive.

What's more, I think for a long time I was in denial about how much of a foodie I am. I used to simply shrug and tell people I was insanely picky eater. Which was always true, however, i'm starting to realize it was much more then that. I love food. And I think foodie's are often typecast as food snobs that can't enjoy a meal unless it's expensive ethnic fusion of some sort. And for sure, there are some self proclaimed foodies that are exactly that way. However, a real foodie is someone that enjoys food. They enjoy watching food shows, making food, trying new things, and would be just as happy with a tasty expensive meal as they would be with food from a delicious street vendor.

Food becomes much more then something you ingest for nourishment and becomes something you create. Something you share with your friends and talk about later.

So... yeah. I'm a foodie. And it's expensive. Not because I'm constantly buying foods far to expensive for my means... But I'd rather make my meals then buy, ready made foods. I enjoy the process for shopping for food and crafting meals. The problem, however, is that I get caught up single meals. Or foods that will last for a short period of time. I buy all the necessary items for a couple different meals and by the time I'm done $50 are gone as well. I get home, and I give a happy sigh that lasts a few days to a week.

Then another idea hits... It would be so good if I had this, that and the other food... Cause then I could make, blah, blah and blah.. So 1 and a half weeks later I'm back at the grocery store! And it becomes impossible to spend anything less then $30 dollars, because fresh fruit is expensive, seasonings are expensive, unprocessed foods in general... Are expensive.

For me at least. But it is, what it is. I don't go to the movies. I don't have a tv, so no cable bill. And the general public would be a little shocked if I mentioned when the last time I'd bought new clothes or shoes.

So in the end I indulge my love of food and trying new things with only a minimal amount of guilt. Cause, yum!



The Go! Team, originally uploaded by SisterSafetyPin.

First things first, let's dedicate a moment to look upon Ninja with love absolute love, for how awesome she is... Oh yes, love.

Now I'd like to talk about how much I love Google Buzz. Seriously, I'm all a twitter with glee for it. I just configured my profile [which can be found here for all you other early adopters...] And it's really cool. I love the way I can get updates from two of my favorite tech blogs right from my Buzz page. I also really like the way my Buzz profile has a single bar that shows my flickr page, without being to jarring or 'LOOK AT ME' ish, you know?

Probably not.

But in other, slightly less tech related news [it's time to put my geek away]... I lost my atm card two weeks ago. And lucky me, the day before I lost it I realized that I needed to pay my cellphone bill. So... I've equally been without a cell phone for the past two weeks. For the most part, it's not been that bad. After all, it gives me a legitimate excuse not to call home. [I know what you're thinking. 'For SHAME!' and 'Call your poor grandmother, right NOW!' Or possibly even, 'I don't know how you SLEEP at night!'] ....Actually all of that, may just be the voice my family had implanted in my head at birth so I always have a healthy dose of guilt on hand. However, it can't be helped! I don't have anything to say.

By and by... I ordered a replacement card immediately, because I still needed to buy a compilation book that my teacher put together online. After calling I was told that my card would be in my hands within 4 days. Meaning, it should have been in my hands last Wed at the latest. Thursday...Friday... And realization hit.

My atm card was sent to my grandmothers house... In LA. So I had 3 options.

  1. Call home and have an awkward 'I know I haven't called in 2 weeks now, but I think my atm card got sent there can you overnight it?' Conversation
  2. Call my credit union and have THAT card canceled and a new one sent to my current address. Which would mean another week or more without my card. Or
  3. Email my Aunt at work, explain everything and hopefully have my atm card by Monday.
I'm a bit of a coward, I was going to go with option 2, until I realized had option 3. So I fire off my email Friday and eagerly wait for confirmation that it was received. Saturday.. Sunday.. Monday.. Finally, today after I've all but given up hope my aunt responds. Apparently, Friday and Monday were holidays, who knew? [That was rhetorical] So now, I have to wait until tomorrow for my aunt to email letting me know whether someone's put my card in the mail.

Which in a round about way brings us back to Google Buzz, by way of Gmail. Buzz, it's what you do... lol



I was just reading a story where a tried and true sickly sweet argument was occurring.

"I love you."
"I love you, more"
"I love you most"
I love you, times infinity.

And then finally....

"I love you, times infinity +1!"

And the argument is won. But I just had to laugh. Because what is it about the +1 that is such a game changer? What's more it's an accepted game changer among children. One does not simply say, "Well I love you, infinity +2!" It's just not done. For some reason, as a collective we have decided that the already infinite number can have a single +1, anything more then that is just being ridiculous.

But when you think about it, the +1 is already ridiculous. How can you add 1 to a limitless number? If we're going to deal in the impossible why is it not ok to simply continue the argument all the way up to infinity times infinity?

Maybe because even as children we understand the mess we'd be getting ourselves into. Much like, "The Song That Doesn't End..." Once you start there's an innate knowledge that it would be quite difficult to stop.

So we stop at +1. And feel smug about tricking our partner into saying, "... times infinity."

I < /3 Facebook

Question?, originally uploaded by SisterSafetyPin.

That's 'I Hate Facebook' for those not up on their internet speak.

Which beg's the question, 'Why?' Or perhaps, "How?"

To put it plainly, I don't know. I'll lay back and start at the beginning, which I'm fairly certain, starts with Senior year. [Ha! You thought I was going to go with the cliche, 'It starts when I was born, Doctor...']

By and by, senior year in high school happened and I, with my one class, eagerly looked forward to graduating and never seeing anyone I went to school with again. After all, this had been promised to me by pop culture. It's the way things work.

You make shallow friends that you put up with simply because it would be to troublesome to stop hanging out with them | You graduate | You don't hear from or of them until the 10 year high school reunion. At which point you either gloat about being the CEO at the company that they are in fact, merely a peon... Or you proclaim with conviction to have invented the Post-It.

And despite the fact that by 2015, no one in their right mind would believe I invented the Post-it, it would be my lie of choice. Well, that or I'd show up with a group of super dyke lesbians that I'd met in a bar specializing in bondage, hours before the reunion.... But unlike the main character of Sister Safety Pin, I doubt I could pull that off.

So anyway back to my point, or subpoint, I'd expected to never hear from these people again until the reunion. A 10 year reprieve if you will. But instead, Myspace happens. Which in the beginning was really of no concern to me, I was content with my LiveJournal. Then Facebook happens. And "OMGOSH!!11! We all got into college!! We can totally join!" Because five years ago, Facebook was still something of a novelty.

But alas, still no real concern to me. I had zero plans of getting either. So what happened you ask? How did I go from happily abstaining from both, to unhappily having a profile on each by the end of my first semester in college?

Peer Pressure. The two P's that never cease to ruin lives. And I know what you're thinking. Or rather, I know what I would be thinking if I read such a ridiculous post. "Why not delete them then?"

Truthfully? I don't delete my myspace account, because Myspace has written itself out of relevancy. There's no point even working up the minimal energy required to delete it. However, Facebook has managed to situate itself so firmly into the psyche of not only my age group and below... But as the news anchor that came to speak to my Women in Mass Media class today said, "Having a Facebook account used to be an optional thing. These days, in the 24/7 instant news era, a Facebook and a Twitter account are mandatory."

Twitter, I understand. It's the quickest way to get the pulse on major invents as well as the quickest way to get information out. Facebook? Not so much.

However, I'm fairly certain that has more to do with me being a cantankerous old man when it comes to certain things. Truly at times I feel like bending over into the shape of an L, grabbing a nobly cane or broken root and shaking it in the air as I yell... "Get of my lawn!" Or more appropriately... "GO AWAY!" Who I'm yelling that to I'm not exactly sure, because I'm half blind from squinting at my computer screen all day.

However, while I sit back and grumble while my imaginary wife wipes the spittle from my mouth... I'm fairly certain the sounds of my mumbling... "God Damn Facebook..."** Can be heard.


**Courage the Cowardly Dog is a cartoon that used to [may still] come on Cartoon Network. The old man from that cartoon is the old man I envision my disagreeable self as. He's also known to mumble, "God damn dog...." Funny stuff.



Born With It, originally uploaded by SisterSafetyPin.

To the fro. Or rather: Ode to my fro that so fly you'd be JIVE not to recognize!

After years [read: 2] of being natural I have finally got my hair to look ridiculously awesome in a perfectly shaped afro. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little smug about that.

Following my success I felt the need to take my hair on the town and strut it a little bit, i.e: John Travolta style circa the end of Staying Alive. That or my need to break up the monotony that has been dinner for the past few days, out-weighed my need to stay warm in the house.

Most likely a bit of both. [A bit of the chill has left the air here and I feel the need to be out in it as much as possible.]

However, speaking of John Travolta I've been thinking. Why don't more men wear beards? I feel like it's an under-appreciated style on men. I often think I'd probably have a beard if I were a guy. It'd be nice though, groomed and maintained. Not a little chinster either, but a beard. [Did I just make up a word? What do you call those little bits of fluff on the chin guys wear?]

I'm unsure what my fascination with beards are. My dad used to say, I was drawn to them as a baby as well. I don't know. It's not some secret and rather tame form of penis envy manifesting through some deep seeded secret desire to have a beard. No, no.

I just think it could be made to look rather spiffy.

Yes. I just used the word, spiffy.

In other more music related news, I've been listening to a lot of: Trip-hop, lo-fi, and downtempo, lately. I've no idea why, but I have managed to discover a few bands in the process so you know..

It's all good.

And it rained all night | Thom Yorke