People I hate: updated for 2011!

I'm what one would call a "misanthrope." Or an "asshole." I tend to think they're interchangable. In short? I can't stand 95% of humanity.

Usually I reserve my hatred for women with huge strollers who insist on standing in the doorway of the T at rush hour and Rush Limbaugh. But my cup runneth over with vitriol, and I'm singling some of you dickbags out.

People who quote themselves.

Have you ever known anyone who did this? Have you ever noticed that everyone who does this is always the stupidest fucking person you know? Your friend with the Ph.D. in English who spent three years writing a thesis on Paradise Lost doesn't quote himself. It's always the dipshit who graduated high school with 2.1 GPA and promptly got a job installing car stereos who thinks he's so chock-full-o'-wisdom that he has to share his enlightenment with the world. Do the world a favor and keep your banal observations to yourself.

People who love the Dave Matthew Band.

I might get a lot of shit for this, but I can't think of any band that is more fucking played-out than the Dave Matthews Band. It's boring yuppie bullshit, consistently enjoyed by asshats in Fortune 500 companies that spend their days figuratively pushing money around with rakes and then as soon as the five o'clock world's whistle blows, they don their khaki cargo shorts and Abercrombie polos and bang their heads to Dave Matthews like he's some fucking killer guitar player. It's like Muzak except you don't have to speculate about the singer's sexuality. Grow a pair and listen to metal, you morons. (Not that I like metal, really. I listen to Robyn.)

Hot lesbians.

What the fuck is your problem? Why do you insist on ignoring me? Why do you absolutely refuse to be swayed by my stunning looks and endless charm? Why do all of you like science so much? Why do you make me look like a plebian? Why must you keep my OkCupid inbox and my soul empty? Why do none of you find me attractive, yet any idiot with a dick and bad haircut whom I'd never screw in a million years won't hesitate to tell me they think I'm hot?

Friends who won't tell you the truth.

THIS ONE. I'm sure it's happened to all of us. You have that one friend who says "Aw yeah we're totally going to hang out on Saturday, it's going to be awesome!" Then they meet up with someone who doesn't like you or who almost got in a fistfight with your husband on New Year's Eve (whoops, whatever, I was so drunk I barely remember it) and then suddenly all that shit is down the drain and you're lucky if they even reply to your text message asking what town they're going to be in. I don't fucking care if you don't want to hang out with me, or can't, or something's occurred to offend your delicate fucking sensibilities. Just be honest about it. My heart isn't going to break.

People who fake disabilities to get money / perks / pity.

There's this guy who fake-hobbles on the train every morning. A fat guy who demands to be given the optimal seating because he's so super disabled and can't walk and has to use crutches. But, if you actually watch him and not just buy into the whole "he must be disabled and I can't question a disabled person's motives," he's using them like fucking ski poles. I long held a suspicion that the guy was faking it. Then I saw him at A.C. Moore, waddling around sans crutches like he was the most able-bodied bastard in the world, buying fabric pant and rick-rack so he can decorate his Lee jeans. Fuck that guy. Also, fuck the guy on the train who purports to be blind yet crushes the Jumble and Sudoku every morning. Blind my ass.

eight songs that make me want to pour hot wax in my ears.

I like to think I have refined taste when it comes to music. Among my friends, I'm usually the one sharing band recommendations, and I've had more than a few people I used to know contact me later and tell me they're still listening to a band I introduced them to. I would make the best rock critic probably ever.

As a whole, I think the music industry sucks ass and the crap they play on the radio could not be worse. But here are eight songs that I really, really abhor.

Katy Perry - California Gurls

 How subtle. I bet your parents are so proud.

It's not that I think Katy Perry is stupid. It's that I think she's a fucking moron. With a fucking terrible voice. This is one of those songs that sticks to your brain matter like that obnoxious residue from when you rip a sticker off too quickly. The song's premise isn't terrible, I guess, except she pretty much desecrated one of the greatest songs ever to be recorded. It features probably the worst Snoop Dogg appearance ever. And lyrics stating "we freak in my Jeep"? 1997 called, they want their lame-ass lingo back.


Pussycat Dolls - Don't Cha

There is nothing in the world more heinous than pop groups wearing matching outfits.

Without even getting into how "Pussycat Dolls" is the easily the dumbest name ever, and the fact "Cha" is not even a fucking word, and that I don't even get why there are five broads in this ensemble when only one of them actually sings, this is by far the most phony attempt at female self-empowerment that I've ever heard. Terrible shtick, terrible song. In short, I don't.


Black Eyed Peas - I Gotta Feeling

The band is comprised of will.i.am.a.narcissistic.prick, Tabooring, apl.de.ap.iece.of.shit, and the Ferg-monster.

I gotta feelin' that every time I hear the Black Eyed Peas, my entire day is fucking ruined. I can't believe our country is so braindead that they could be sold on a song proclaiming that "tonight's gonna be a good night." Real deep. If you listened really carefully during the moment this song was announced as number one on the Billboard charts, you could hear the sound of classical musicians everywhere dying on the inside. When life imitates art and Idiocracy reflects the state of American affairs, I bet you a million dollars everyone will be listening to the Black Eyed Peas.

I could pretty much make this whole list out of Black Eyed Peas songs, but I won't bore you, and I shudder every time I have to actually type the name of this insufferable, talentless, hideous gang of asshats.  They shall henceforth be known as The Douchebags Who Shall Not Be Named.


Avril Lavigne - Girlfriend

Avril, I think you found your true calling.

Hey! Hey! You! You! Fuck off and die, please.


Ke$ha - Tik Tok

You will never fucking be Cher. Don't even try.

I actually kind of liked this song the first two times I heard it. I thought it was sorta campy. And then I heard it another forty thousand times, and I realized that being continually subjected to that song is the equivalent of being locked in a hot, windowless room with vomit and crap all over the walls. If there truly is a God, he invented that song just to show you that in hell, everyone has a nasal voice, there's way too much glitter, every guy is potentially raping you, they use Jack Daniels instead of toothpaste, and there's a loud-ass clock ticking the seconds away. That's enough to make me into a believer.


Nickelback - How You Remind Me

Nickelback is the worst band in popular music today. I'm not even kidding. The intense popularity of Nickelback epitomizes everything I hate about this country. I would say that I want them to meet their end in a bloody plane crash, but that would seal their martyr status and probably make them even more popular than they already are, so I will request that they split up and order all radio stations and Best Buys to destroy all traces that their music ever existed.


Fall Out Boy - Sugar, We're Goin' Down

There is no way any of these guys had sex in high school.

I can't, for the life of me, understand why teenaged chicks eat stuff like this up. The style of singing is so ridiculously annoying, not to mention completely unintelligible. This is what it sounds like to me:

We goin' dow dow dobeedoobeedoobaaaa
And sugar we gotta down singa
I'll be a numb-er one with a boola
A loaded God complex, caca and pulla


Owl City - Fireflies

I want to punch him in his stupid giant head.

Just admit you completely and totally ripped off The Postal Service, you piece of shit.

2010's douchebag of the universe!

Lately, I've been thinking a lot about egotism and vanity. I've realized lately that I don't personally find selfishness that offensive - but only if it's self-aware selfishness. Only if it's selfishness that someone owns and is very clear about. You want to abandon your roommates in the middle of the night without having paid rent for three months? Sleep with someone for a promotion? Do it. Just admit that you're a self-centered asshole. Deep down, we're all kind of terrible, but we're not self-disparaging enough to outwardly proclaim it. Thus, I have a lot of respect for people who know they're shitheads and have no problem letting the world know.

As such, I believe narcissism under the guise of charity is a capital sin. Let me introduce you to 2010's Douchebag of the Universe.

A picture is worth a thousand words. Or twenty-five, which is about the number of words in his vocabulary.

This guy, whom I'll call the Simian, is a self-proclaimed "social media superstar," a "model" and a "promoter." Technically, he might be all of these things. He has nearly 5000 Facebook friends, a collection of photographs in various states of undress, and he hosts nights at Boston clubs. But more than anything, he is a vain, superficial, greasy, deluded moron who sells makeup on the internet and thinks he has the right to tell other people that they're ugly.

On his website, he touts the e-book of his "rise to glory" from suburban upper-middle-class friendless loser to club rat that hangs out with walking piles of hair extensions. Since I don't want to subject you to the inanity (I read it and nearly lost my lunch as well as my will to live), I'll sum it up for you: He was fat. He didn't kiss anyone until he was 17. He worked at a bank. He went on MySpace.

"This is where I made a decision. I decided I wanted it all. I wanted the girls in the pictures, I wanted the abs, I wanted the money, the cars, the flashing lights, and I wanted to be right in the middle of all of it. This is where my world got flipped upside down."

What an existential crisis! Honda Civics and glitter graphics are so inspiring! So how was he going to achieve his dream of material satisfaction?

"I figured the most logical way to get something that I really wanted was to observe and mimic the people who already had it."

Brilliant plan of attack, troglodyte. Brilliant. I mean it. He was at the very least smart enough to realize that he will never have the insight or prowess to fashion himself as a unique person. Instead, he nicknamed himself "Hollywood," (though I doubt he'd ever been there by that time), bought a lot of vests, and has landed somewhere between being a juicehead and a motivational speaker. He hawks his brand with the panache of a satisfied client on a Hair Club for Men commercial; hurling epigrams about how feeling good is looking good and taking every available opportunity to compare women to cars.

He uses his internet presence to tell everyone what he's about, which is essentially nothing. Positivity! Hot chicks and money! You're not rich because you're not working hard enough!

Still, women kiss his ass. For every banal, shallow observation about how everything he does is right and everything everyone else does is wrong, there are eight bimbos cooing about funny and wise he is. It goes without saying that these are the kind of women who are the human personifications of herpes, and are guaranteed to have fake breasts, nails, hair, tans, or all of the above. They tend to have even less substance than the men who are so desperate to fuck them.

Have you ever noticed that the people who are always about having a "positive attitude" and "achieving their dreams" are the people who have absolutely nothing under the surface? They're also the same people who don't watch the news, don't care about political issues, and claim to like all kinds of music. I guess it's really easy to be positive all the time when you spend your time not reading or attempting to contribute anything to society.

I have the consolation of knowing that in 20 years, this dipshit will be wearing Sears suits and selling used cars, but it still unnerves me that there are legions of dumb broads in America, swarming around men like him and their giant heads. It irritates the absolute shit out of me that anybody in the world thinks he's an authority on ANYTHING. But what irks me most of all is that he has the nerve to claim that he's "helping people". Here's a recent Facebook comment, full of self-deprecation and modesty:

"Do you know about the countless hours I've spent helping hopeless teenagers actually have a social life, get attention from women, change their image, have FRIENDS? Without asking for ANYTHING in return?"

Oh yes, you are an endless foundation of philanthropy! The world thanks you for your generous donation of hypocritical comments on other people's lives! You're the front-runner to win the Nobel Prize; they just made a new category for being a fucking self-absorbed worthless piece of shit! Everybody knows you're only helping your dick and your bottom line; just get over yourself.

oh my god, nobody cares.

 

I know I am a mutant. I know I am the only woman on the face of the earth who can't stand babies. I am aware of this already. No one needs to lambast me for it. 

So this should come as no surprise to any of you that I am tired of hearing about them. I want to preface this by saying that I am not tired of hearing about children and the weird/funny things they do. I am not against children. As soon as they can emote and pick up shit on their own, I'm all about it. 

But there is a proliferation of baby-TMI going on, particularly on social networking sites, and I'm really over it.

I am really tired of hearing about how people's newborns shit all over themselves, or how they didn't sleep through the night, or how they cried when their foreskin was cut. 

And what is with the pictures of new born babies and their shriveled, rotting, black umbilical cords? It looks like they have leeches crawling out of their stomachs. Attractive.

You are not special for having a kid.

I am completely irritated by the maternal smugness that fills the air every time a child slides out of a vagina. Some women seem to think that giving birth is the greatest accomplishment of their lives. I hate to break it to you, but women have only been doing it since... oh, I dunno, the beginning of the species. You don't deserve a fucking trophy for being rawdogged. I've realized that two consequences of unprotected sex, STDs and children, have a lot in common, actually... they're lasting reminders of bad decisions that both irritate and destroy any opportunity for future intercourse.

On another note,  I don't give a shit what Louis C.K. says, all babies look the same.

I hate to be a total bitch to the most innocent of human creatures (okay, actually I don't really care), but I don't understand why people will take 65390173190 pictures of their newborns. Pretty much all babies look the same to me until they're at least 6 months old. Not to mention the fact that newborn babies have absolutely no personality. Nobody is as boring of a photo subject as a baby who can't even lift its own head. You might as well take pictures of your cat's asshole or a turd in the toilet - at least these things respond to stimuli.

And yes, if I ever give birth, it will be to a giant cigarette. Or an Absolut bottle. At least these will actually serve a function for me. And neither of them shit themselves.

the motherhood malady.

Yesterday, I read a bullshit article in the New York Observer about this new "faminism" trend, which fluctuated between typical trend-piece-stretch (a couple famous women and some spoiled New York housewives do not a trend make) and backlash propaganda. It's basically a story about how feminism is out, and tending to thirty thousand snot-nosed little brats instead of working is what women should be doing!

It's in full effect, ladies. Run for your lives.

'Women are defining themselves more by their families than they are by themselves,' said Pamela Paul, a 39-year-old mother of three in Harlem and author of Parenting Inc. 'It’s no longer about something as selfish and self-advancing as abortion or the pill.'

 Oh, right, because not having a child when you can't afford one and not bringing more human beings into an already-overpopulated planet are so SELFISH.

What the article is trying to drive home is that it is now popular - nay, the status quo - to forego our self-actualization in favor of strollers, and view the personal as not political, but parental. Again, yet again, women are expected to find fulfillment only through motherhood. And we call this a "choice."

But I want to know - what choices, as women, do we really have? Settle down, become mothers - for whom? We're told we have more reproductive freedom than ever before in history, and the preponderance of prophylactics available in 2010 absolutely makes it true, in a tangible sense. That doesn't stop society from reminding women that our "clock is ticking," that "time is running out on your fertile years," that it's "biological destiny." It's backlash like all other backlash, it's just another way of attempting to force women to fit the mold. I find it incredibly disheartening that, even this far along, we only have the illusion of choice. Choice would imply that all options are equally viable and acceptable. There is only one socially acceptable option for being an adult female in America, and we all know what happens if you don't take that road.

I just wish for a society in which our worth is not purchased by a diamond engagement ring, and our future is not formed in a marital bed. We should all be able to want any kind of life as women, be it full of children or without any - but you shouldn't need a certain life to be a woman. I want to be living proof.

I don't fucking get romance novels.

 I'm not heartless, I swear. Brokeback Mountain made me cry.

I know it's not going to shock anyone, but I really don't care for that whole "I have a uterus and thus I am only interested in storytelling about heterosexual love affairs with non-descript characters and one brutally over-dramatized sex scene" thing. I understand that there is a segment of the female population that secretly reads trashy Harlequin romance novels about ripping corsets and riding "members," and that's fine, because they keep that shit on the down low. Nobody would dare to read "Mistress: Pregnant by the Spanish Billionaire" anywhere remotely public.

But, unfortunately, it is socially acceptable to read the printed diarrhea that is any Nicholas Sparks novel. And I want to punch this douchebag in the face simply for introducing his particular brand of fantastical and formulaic love story into the cultural lexicon.

Yet another movie based on one of Sparks' books just came out, with Miley Cyrus and Liam Hemsworth (don't worry, I have no idea who the fuck he is either) playing the romantic leads. Now, I'm not going to see this piece of shit movie - he's responsible for six of these god-awful things so far, and the only one I saw was A Walk to Remember because I was fifteen and a romance-junkie friend dragged me against my will - but I bet I can narrow the plot down in one sentence: Rebellious individual meets overly generous and kind person, they each learn the error of their own ways, make out, and then one of them dies.

.... And this guy makes MILLIONS of dollars? Why, you ask?

I'll tell you why - because American women are given no great fantasy. We all want to escape our lives, right? Transcend the banality of rising at the same time every morning, working in the same cubicle, bogged down by the decision of whether to have chicken or fish for dinner. Society has established numerous legal avenues for men to just get away from their lives - sports, whiskey, Xbox 360, Tolkien, sportscars, the list goes on, ad infinitum.

What do women get? Romance novels.

It's just assumed that LOVE is all we care about. It's just assumed that from the second we're born with a vagina we're just waiting longingly for our princes to come. All our dreams revolve around the white dress, the diamond ring, the moment of completeness when we find The One and can settle down and start popping out children and never worry about anything again except for The One maybe dying in a mudslide (Nights in Rodanthe) or dropping dead at 17 with leukemia (A Walk to Remember) or enjoying a wonderful life with us and then forgetting the entire thing in old age due to dementia (The Notebook).

So basically, Nicholas Sparks is dictating our greatest desires and deepest fears. I'm so glad there's yet another man who knows exactly what women want. I'm also so glad that the vast majority of women have absolutely no taste in literature, because they're all making me look so much more posh by default.

you're an asshole.

And you get in my way.

Being trapped in a metal tube for approximately two hours a day, plus working in the middle of what Vietnam vets like to call "the shit" - or what's known to Bostonians as Downtown Crossing -  has made me quite the people-hater. Sometimes I feel like everyone is just trying to annoy the crap out of me. Today I'll run through through all the kinds of people I encounter on a daily basis that drive me insane.

1. Bluetooth Headset Guy

You seriously can't take that shit off to have a romantic dinner with your wife?

Oh, I'm sorry for bumping into you, Self-Important Bluetooth Headset Guy. See, while you were standing on the Green Line, doing nothing at all, you were obviously waiting for some call that will be so urgent and important that you won't have 15 seconds to answer the call on your phone, or just put your headset on your head. No, no, you are SOOOOO busy waterskiing and rope climbing and holding an umbrella that you cannot actually hold your phone and have to wear your fucking headset everywhere you go. And I've NEVER actually seen someone who's wearing a headset ever get a call. These douchebags just want you to know that because they wear a little piece of plastic over their ear that blinks, they are wayyyyy more in demand than you'll ever be. The only satisfaction I get is that everyone who actually conducts a phone call on a headset in public looks like a total nutjob who is talking to themselves.


2. Incredibly, Ridiculously Loud Mexican Music Lady

I WISH it were Sugar Ray. And that's giving Sugar Ray a lot of credit.

This bitch lost her hearing in 1995, which is the only explanation for why she plays her incredibly obnoxious music so loudly that people 20 feet away can hear it. And, without fail, the music itself is stuff that no one in their right mind would ever listen to. It always sounds like a mariachi band that's been put on an Autotune. Why can't these people blast the Rolling Stones? Or Elton? If they're going to make everyone else in a half-mile radius listen to their iPod they should be forced to play something that most people actually like.


3. The Tourist

I don't even care about your contribution to our economy.

I'm sure you all knew this was coming. But tourists drive me up a wall. Is it so hard, Mr. and Mrs. Southern-Drawl-and-Walmart-Denim-Shorts, to not ride the subway at rush hour when you have no idea where you're going? Is it so impossible for you to not stand in front of the door with your thirty-five stupid children when people have trains to catch? I don't fucking understand why these people cannot fathom that while they are meandering around a city that doubles in population every weekday, people have things to do.

4. Foghorn Nose-Blower Dude

The leader of the free world blows his nose quietly, why can't you?

I have no idea how these guys make blowing their nose into the world's biggest racket, but they do it. They must have this weird arm arc that allows them to blow and apply pressure at just the right point so that while they shoot snot out of their schnozes, they simultaneously delight us with a blowhorn worthy of a college basketball game. COME ON.

5. IPhone Cultists
 

Sprint 4life.

I read something in Elle the other day that said iPhone users judge other people based on their gadgets. Well, I judge you based on your iPhone. I know my friends have them and they may be offended, but God, everytime someone gets one of these things, it's like they don't even bother to have human interaction anymore. They spend all their money on stupid applications that distort pictures of themselves and calculate how much they should put down for a tip on their overpriced brunch at The Beehive. Every iPhone user does nothing but look at their iPhone and think about how many times they want to blow Steve Jobs for creating such a beautiful masterpiece of technology. They will no doubt ensure eventual complete isolation in any and all social situations, since no one wants to hang out with someone who can't even bother to put their stupid phone down to engage in a conversation. But hey, what do they care? Now they don't even have to pretend to actually care about your life - they can just periodically maintain the friendship via Facebook!

you all get older. I just get more stylish.

Some current observations on aging, marriage, spawning (gross) and being fantastic:

1. I don't get why we, as a culture, congratulate people for having babies, and, furthermore, praise the attractiveness of said babies, even when they're hideous.

I guess I should get used to this, as it's going to happen for the next 20 years or so, but it seems like everyone is getting knocked up. And they all expect congrats and GIFTS for doing so.

Call me callous, but I don't think that having a man ejaculate inside of you is something worthy of a prize. I'm forced to hearken back to Garfunkel & Oates' "Pregnant Women are Smug." I know women - my best friend Melanie among them - who have had kids, and adore them, but never acted like they were better than anyone else or more special for doing so.

I think the idea of a shower weirds me out, too. It's like being at a big Christmas morning except there are no mimosas, and you don't get shit but have to watch someone else open every pair of fucking socks they get and show them around, and everyone's supposed to feign interest when all they can think about is when they're going to GET OUT OF THERE and watch football. Oh wait, I forgot, I'm the only broad who likes football, and not just because it's impressive to dudes.

I know having a child makes you less selfish, a better person, you're a mutant if you don't want one, it's your responsibility as a woman to procreate and ensure the survival of the species, blah blah blah, but I really don't care about how much your one-month-old baby shits, or how sore your breasts are because you've been pumping them all night. You probably don't care about my obsession with Lilith Fair or how I ate an entire container of Funfetti frosting last night, but at least I'm kind of ironic. And funny.


2. I am really sick of people asking me fucking stupid questions such as, "How's married life?"

THE SAME AS BEFORE, JACKASS, except now I have idiots like you asking me questions about being married because anyone under the age of 30 who is single has no idea to talk to anyone who isn't. I signed a piece of paper and said some vows, I didn't undergo a lobotomy. I'm still myself. Our relationship is basically the same. The only difference is that older men show me more respect, and older women now think it's okay to tell Seth about their husbands' sexual fetishes. And I get the whole "STFU MARRIEDS" thing. I don't think I fall in that category - I would rather drop dead than post "I love my schmoopie!" anywhere on the goddamn internet - but maybe if you talked to us about things other than our marriages, maybe we would talk about things other than our marriages.


3. I'm not going to spend five hundred trillion dollars on products to minimize my wrinkles. I don't care.

I've got a drinking problem and I don't moisturize. I don't give a shit. I haven't exactly been skating by on my looks for these past 23 years, so why bother trying to start? My teeth are not bright white, I enjoy Wendy's chicken nuggets and I win people over with my sparkling personality. That's just me.

the Swift conundrum.

 She's legally an adult. I don't feel guilty.

All I've heard about lately is Taylor Swift. And for some reason, I can't get her out of my head. Maybe it's the fact that every radio station plays her three times an hour. Maybe it's the fact that MTV hasn't played music videos in six years, but somehow, hers are making the rounds. Maybe it's the fact that everyone on the internet is obsessed with her.

But I'm going to take the opinion of Sady Doyle at Bitch, who calls Swift out for being a less-than-ideal representative of a young woman at the height of fame.

Let's take a step back for a moment, shall we? Back to when I was 16. Back to when my parents found out I lost my virginity because Newsweek had written an all-too-paternalistic feature on how great all these untouched teenagers were. I decided to compose a letter to the editor arguing my view that one could be a smart, responsible, upstanding teen even if you've let someone round the bases. Due to my unending wisdom and eloquence even in 11th grade, they wanted to print my rant. So they called my house to ask permission. While I was at school.

What I was rebelling against when I was 16 is what Taylor Swift has come to represent - the I haven't-given-it-up-so-I'm-better-than-you morality. Being a virgin, by nature, should not make you a "good girl." But the concept is endlessly perpetuated, and I am unwilling to call anyone an unlikely feminist unless they're willing to challenge the "The Disney Factor." The only representations of young women between the ages of 15 and 21 are the virgins or the whores. Our society refuses to allow the middle ground - the not-overtly sexy teenage girl who doesn't totter around on stilettos, but has given a blowjob or two in her day. No one depicts what most would consider average teenage sexuality (need I remind, 63% of high schoolers have sex before they graduate) - you're either riding stripper poles or calling anyone who doesn't wear a promise ring a slut.

For me, here's a big difference between singing songs for a particular demographic, and presenting onesself as being PART of that demographic. Raffi records music for young children - but he doesn't pretend he's a five-year-old. Taylor Swift, though legally old enough to vote, smoke cigarettes, view pornography and serve in the military, is making music for girls that are fourteen and presenting herself in music videos as though she were fourteen. Surely Swift's life experiences can't just be boiled down to four years of high school, can they?

The common response to the argument against Taylor Swift is that those who dislike her image "carry baggage," and "made mistakes" and are jealous of her adorable purity. To say I am envious of her money and fame is not ridiculous - I make thirty thousand dollars a year, for Christ's sake - but I think I've seen more in my 23 years than Taylor could ever dream of, and I'm happy to have that experience. I just don't think young girls need more patronizing, another famous figure who's telling them that if you are female, and you LIKE SEX, you are BAD. In addition, she is framing masculinity in excessively limited terms as well - BOYS are going to push you to do what you don't want to, BOYS are clueless and only go for the girls in high heels, BOYS are going to break your heart no matter what you do.

I'm not going to say that Taylor Swift is a bad role model, because I don't think she is, in context of broader pop culture. But if you look at Swift in comparison to artists such as Jewel, Alanis Morrisette and Fiona Apple - all of whom helped write and cut their iconic American debuts Pieces of You, Jagged Little Pill and Tidal around the time they were 19, Swift's current age - you realize how far she has to come. Swift is lamenting on losing boys to high-heeled cheerleaders and fantasizing about becoming a princess. "Who Will Save Your Soul" addresses American consumer culture, addiction and prostitution, and Jewel said she wrote it when she was sixteen. Alanis, instead of cowering and crying about her breakup, rants and raves and misbehaves on "You Oughta Know," playing anything but the docile feminine doll that Swift has come to embody. Fiona made it awfully clear she's a sinner in "Criminal," and ultimately, this self-awareness made all of us realize how adult she and the other Lilith Fair era ladies actually were. They owned themselves and their images, even at 19.

My point? Let's give it up for the ladies of the 90s. At least they didn't have an agenda other than being totally fucking crazy, and awesome.

I'm not embarrassed about my period, why are you?

Last week, I took a day off of work for my own personal mental health and sanity. Seeing as I was right in the throes of my period, I took a leisurely stroll to Rite Aid and proceeded to pick up a multipack of tampons, and take them to the checkout line. I also purchased a pair of pantyhose, and a teeth whitening kit. The nice older woman at the register chatted with me about the weather and bagged my items, and I paid and left. Only after leaving the store and walking down Highland did I realize what she'd done.

The woman doubled-bagged me.

I don't know if they teach people this in drugstore-cashier-training or whatever the hell they do at CVS, Rite Aid and Walgreens... but every time I buy tampons, they're double-bagged. Maybe they do it for every embarrassing purchase, you'd think, but I bought anti-diarrheal pills at CVS a few months ago and they single-bagged those fuckers. I have yet to get a verdict on whether or not Preparation H is tagged for two bags, but I'm gonna guess it's not.

Why does this anger me, you ask? Because this seemingly harmless little old lady who's manning the register at Rite Aid is contributing to the continued stigma of the menstrual cycle - an element of EVERY WOMAN'S LIFE. Every natural born woman, illness or certain conditions notwithstanding, menstruates. So I don't understand why, in 2009, we still have to double-bag feminine hygiene products, which EVERY WOMAN NEEDS AND USES. Why are women not allowed to have normal bodily functions? Oh, that's right, because we're not supposed to be human. We're supposed to be sweet-smelling, gentle, delicate creatures that don't grow body hair or take shits.

I know this woman probably grew up in a time when periods started with a capital P: for Private, and Personal, and Positively no sex involved. We need to seriously rethink how we're acting about menstruation, and what it may mean for the next few generations. I'm not embarrassed about menstruating. it's a part of life. I'll take a single bag for my tampons, thank you.