Well thanks...dick.

So the internet is a fun place; full of the youtubes, and the twitters, and the cat gifs. It's also full of anonymous people saying things about other people, who are sometimes anonymous and sometimes not. For example, there's a Facebook page called "University of Utah Crushes." It's a place where people can have their objectifications of others published anonymously. Now you're probably thinking, Jessica, this does not sound like your kind of place AT ALL. And you would be right. I think I'm only subscribed to it because someone thought there was a post about me a couple months back (they were mistaken). It's become one of those things that I just scroll past, because I'm too lazy to go and unsubscribe, or unlike, or whatever you have to do with Facebook, and usually I just ignore it, because of posts like this...

and this...

and this...

Because I really don't feel the need to spend my time reading about who has a nice ass, or who want to do whom, or who has the best eyes. It just seems silly, and superficial, and dumb. I guess it fulfills some sort need left over from junior high to express ourselves in a childish and secret way. Cool, great, whatever floats your boat.

 But today, oh today, as I was scrolling and skimming my Facebook feed after work, I read the words campus store, and I thought, hey that's where I work, I guess I'll check it out, see if I can figure out who they're talking about. Because as it turns out, I am not above this sort of thing. This is the post:

So this post is talking about all the people, and by people I mean girls because this guy doesn't care about objectifying the males, that work at the customer service desk (which is where I work). Now if I were "hipster red," or "cat eye queen," or "brunet ballerina baller" I probably would have read this post, given a snort, felt pretty good about myself, chastised myself for allowing something like this to boost my self-esteem in any way, and then continued to feel good about myself. But I am not "hipster red," "cat eye queen," or "brunet ballerina baller." Nope. I'm "bootylicousbitch." And apparently there is some question about how I could have possibly obtained a job in customer service. So that was a fun read. 

I'm assuming that when this charming gentlemen, whomever he may be, posted this he didn't think that it would end up with me, curled in a ball sobbing on my bedroom floor on a Saturday night, questioning every single thing I have ever done or said, and every friendship or relationship I've ever been in. In fact, I'm assuming that if he was thinking at all, he was thinking about how clever and witty and complementary to all the "campus store cuties." He might have even thought about how he was disguising his complements, by excluding our names, so only the people he was talking about would know, although my guess is that he was so busy objectifying us he forgot to look at our name tags (even though they are near our boobs, so you'd think he would have caught them.) 

At any rate if he had just said good things this post would have been objectifying, and sexist, and awful. But putting in that bit about me, the part that called me a bitch who was bad at my job? That was just mean. It was a shitty thing to do. And I'm hurt, and angry, and sad. Because I don't want to be a bitch, in fact I assume not many people do. I don't want to have to question if this is the opinion of one person who caught me on a bad day, or if it's the opinion of every single person who ever talks to me. I don't want to have to stew about who at work will see this, and what they will think, and if they'll agree, and if all my coworkers, as well as all of the people I help, think I'm a raging super bitch. But that's what I'm doing. I'm questioning, and stewing, and doubting, and also crying. And it sucks, so now I'm blogging. And I have something to say to you sexist patron of the campus store and user of the internets: shame on you. Shame on you for looking at a group of women, doing their jobs, and seeing them as objects for your appreciation, who should act, and look, and be what you want. And shame on you for calling someone you've never been introduced to, never had a conversation with, who's life you know nothing about a bitch. You don't know me. 

I was going to turn this into another rant about the potentially poisonous nature of social media. But I'm tired, and I'm upset, so I guess this, my first blog post all year, is just going to be more of a woman scorned rant. Because I needed to say something to this guy, even if he'll never read it. And I decided that it was just ironic enough to do so on the internet, somewhat anonymously. 

Let's Talk Politics

Actually, no, let's not, ever. Here's the thing guys, everyone has a different opinion on many things politics. Even people who are in the same political party don't always agree. And the beautiful thing about this is that everyone's opinion is valid. This is why I don't like to talk politics. Because at the end of the day, I'm not going to change your mind, you're not going to change mine, and we are both just as entitled to our beliefs. I would be more than willing to hold a rational conversation about my views with someone of opposing views, but often times what starts out rational quickly dissolves into name calling, shouting, and finger pointing. And in that situation, no one wins, nothing is gained, and time and energy are wasted. So I don't like discussing politics. However I also don't like living in a state where everyone around me thinks that the political opinion they hold (which in the state of Utah is usually opposite of the political opinion I hold) is the one that EVERYONE holds. And you know what, according to this map they are right on average 72.8% of the time, but that's not 100% that's not even enough to pass a graduate level course (trust me one this). I get really tired of people making "thanks Obama" comments about the man I voted for, and still support. Now I know what you're thinking, these comments happen everywhere, and they do. But most people say them with a sort of defiance in their eyes, like they know that what their saying might start a debate, but they hate our pinko president so much it's worth the risk. Not in Utah. In our lovely Desseret people bash Obama with confidence, with the assumption that no one will oppose them, that everyone agrees that our country is being dragged down to hell by our un-American leader. And damn it I'm sick of it. So more and more lately when people make a comment, grins in place, I'm likely to say, you know I'm a democrat right? I don't know why I do it. I don't want to get into political arguments like the one I got in today where my lab team member said things like, you really support that Muslim lover? and come on, you know he's a sketchy guy (this was after I asked if he believed he was born in Kenya), and (after trying to resume work on our lab) well you're not arguing so you know I'm right. I don't want to be involved in that discussion. It feels icky. It tends to make me lose more of my faith in humanity, and I don't have a lot to spare. So why do I say anything? I guess it's because I would rather listen to that then have people assume that making these comments isn't going to bug anyone. To have people assume that just because it's they are in the majority they can belittle everything they don't agree with. Because you know what happens when you assume? You make an ass out of you and me. Which really only hurts your political party.

You say rude bitch. I say sexist ass.

"In the queue at the grocery store tonight when the British girl in front of me couldn't get her card to work. After several attempts, the cashier said it wasn't going to work. (Now mind you, she was a northerner, so it wasn't like her accent was anything to write home about.) That aside, she was cute, (though she could have been ugly...I was just trying to do the Christian thing) so I offered to pay the $12.14. She denied me...twice. Really?!! I wanted to turn to her and say, "come on...it's only like six quid...you can't even get a good kebab and chips for that." Alas, I held me tongue."


That was a status on Facebook from a guy I used to work with a long time ago. For the record, we are no longer Facebook friends. 
This was a subsequent comment"Sigh* They say chivalry is dead obly because the art of being a lady h as s been butchered... fight the good fight, sir, your are an inspiration to us all!"

First, did you ever think that the girl at the store was probably mortified because she was holding up a line in a public place, and just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible to see what was wrong with her card? I mean, as someone who abhors public attention, and is prone to worrying, if my card isn't working I need to get away from wherever I am and get home right NOW to figure out why. Maybe that was what she was thinking. Perhaps your disdainful assumptions about what kind of person she is are a little bit misplaced. I'm sure that she wasn't declining your benevolent sexism because she hated you and didn't want to let you do the "Christian" thing. She was more likely frustrated, embarrassed, and panicked.

Second, if it doesn't matter if she's cute then don't mention it. It's not pertinent. And now you look like an ass.

Third, would you have offered to pay for a dude? Would you be this mad if a dude had said no? Things to think about.

Fourth, and comment man this one's for you, what exactly do you mean by "the art of being a lady?" Do you mean the idea that women should at all times be dependent on men and accept their help and guidance in every aspect of their lives? Because that's not being a lady, that's being a doormat. And fella, times have a changed. I mean really, isn't the whole concept of being a lady just something a patriarchal society set up in order to keep women in a subordinate, needy, and weak position? I think it might be, but that's another soapbox. I don't think there is anything inherently right about me allowing some man to open my door, or sitting quietly with no opinion as the men talk. Nope. 

So maybe the fine art of being a delicate, ladylike lamb among a world of men is being butchered. But maybe it's time for that particular sheep to go off to the slaughter. Lamb chops, anyone? 

Movie Trailer Junkie

I don't know if watching movie trailers can be considered a past time, but if it can be it's one of mine. I love the brief glimpse, the small taste, that trailers give of the films of the future. I often times, as is the case this evening, sit on IMDb or iTunes Movie Trailers and watch all the newest trailers for hours. I make mental lists of which movies I want to see as soon as they come out, which ones can wait until the dollar theater, and which ones will fade into the obscurity of my mind and never be thought of again, probably for good reason. While I watch these movie trailers I keep a running commentary going in my head. Because I am hilarious, and like to amuse myself. Here are the highlights of tonights preview binge.

• I know next to nothing about the Superman cannon. I think my knowledge is limited to him alien thing who wears underwear over his tights. Also Kryptonite is bad.
• There are a lot of big name movies coming out this summer that I should be excited to see, that I'm just...not. I'll still end up seeing them, I'm just not as thrilled about them. (I'm looking at you Iron Man 3).
• Old people falling in love movies ick me out. Pierce Brosnan is no longer sexy.
• I am so over struggling dance/music performers making it big time while trying to maintain their sense of self movies.
• If I see all the movies I want to see I will have no money. And given my propensity to see movies alone I will probably also lose all my friends.
• I have a huge crush on Jesse Eisenberg. There is just something about him...
• Planes? Really Pixar? Cut the crap and jump me straight to Monsters Inc. part 2.
• Arnold Schwarzenegger should not have resumed acting. It is possible that he never should have started. Stick to what you know governator, pumping steroids and screwing your housekeeper.
• They're making another "Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs"? Does this mean I should see the first one?
• Julianne Moore is in everything, and I'm not upset.

That's our show, or at least my take on small clips from shows that have yet to be released, thanks for watching! Join us next time when Jessica tries to forget her antisocial tendencies in a cloud of 2 minute movie clips!

Twice!

Sister  Jean A Simmons, first lady to pray in General Conference.

And Sister Carole E. Stephens makes two! 

What's that? Doth mine eyes deceive me? That's not one, but two ladies that prayed in GC this weekend. Gender role and morality talks being set aside for a moment, things can change and we can change them! It's not everything, but it's something.

This Week is Going to be Awesome

It is Sunday, which means tomorrow is Monday. I have decided that this week is going to be awesome. Why? Let me tell you.

• On Tuesday I get to see my beautiful mother, whom I love. We are going to go to the wedding of my second cousin, I think, whom I don't know. I will get free food, free kitchen stuff, and the pleasure of her company. I will also get to see my grandma. It is going to fantastic.
• On Thursday I get to go see Joanna Brooks speak in Provo on stuff and stories and things and feminism. And I am SOOOOO EXCITED because she is my hero and I want to be just like her when I grow up. There definitely might be some teenage girl seeing One Direction type squealing.
• On Wednesday I work in the morning. Which may seem like a drag, but it means I only work until one and have all day to do whatever I want. So I think I'm going to go see a movie, alone, probably at The Broadway. Now I only have to decide if I want to see "Argo" or "The Impossible." 
• I don't work on Saturday, which opens up a whole slew of possibilities, I could go to Mapleton, I could sleep in, the world is my oyster.
• Tonight I made buffalo chicken pizza, and it was delicious, and now I'm going to watch Pride and Prejudice, and Mr. Darcy is delicious. 

So basically, as you can see, my week is going to be totally ballin'.

Oh, and someone at church told me I had an amazing singing voice. My ego has been ballooned AND my future is so bright I gotta wear shades.

You Know What Happens When You Assume*...

*Here come the swears so if it bugs you look away now.

And just in case you don't know I'll tell you. It makes an ass out of me and you. Clever clever, but oh so true. Sometimes other people's assumptions and subsequent ass impersonation, makes for fun times for everyone. You know someone makes an assumption, someone else says "well you know what happens when you assume..." everyone laughs and moves on. The person assuming probably feels silly, but really no harm done. Other times, however, someone makes an assumption that comes from a place of pride or hurt or jealousy and they really just look like an ASS. A big one. The kind of ass that makes you simultaneously want to punch them in the soft parts of their body and explain to them exactly what's going on so that they will go away and hide in their shame for awhile, but also run away and never talk to them again because you don't want to catch their particular form of ass hattery, and you're afraid  it just might be contagious.   Is there a point to this post? Not really. I just needed to get that off my chest, and it's to long for Facebook and twitter. I guess the take home message is don't assume things, and if you're going to assume things don't let jealousy rule your tongue/fingers. Also keep your assumptions off Facebook, because being an ass for a moment in a small group sucks, but parading your assery around for hundreds of people to see while also being immortalized as an ass online forever sucks a whole lot more.