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Posts

  • You Provoked Me To Think You are A Tool

    Domestic violence is in the air…. Hmmmm for some reason that doesn’t have that same sweet Disco vibe as “Love is in the Air.” Go figure.

    So Baltimore Raven’s running back Ray Rice received a two game suspension after beating up his girlfriend – which is less than the penalty players get for smoking pot. I guess taking bong hits and eating cookie dough is wayyy more offensive to the NFL than hitting women – because at least that burns calories and builds muscle.  When Rice came out for practice yesterday he got a standing ovation from crowd – obviously people are supporting him despite this despicable behavior.

    Sports reporter Stephen Smith rationalized this discrepancy by saying “we also have to make sure that we learn as much as we can about elements of provocation” because, you know how ladies be enticing men to beat them unconscious and stuff.

    Smith of course “apologized” for his statement, but the sentiment is very popular when it comes to how people react to domestic violence. Even Whoopi Goldberg spoke out to defend Rice: “If you make the choice as a woman who’s four foot three and you decide to hit a guy who’s six feet tall and you’re the last thing he wants to deal with that day and he hits you back, you cannot be surprised!”

    Can we pause for a minute here? So the prevailing logic is that if a woman doesn’t want to get her ass kicked, then she shouldn’t make a man mad at her?  The blogesphere can be plagued with comments that echo the idea that women who hit men deserve to be decked.

    Really?

    If a woman was bludgeoning a man with a crow bar, then yes, he is going to physically react. When your life is genuinely threatened, the instinct of self-defense will prevail over all else. Yet if a woman hits a man and he doesn’t feel like he is in danger, then what is his responsibility? Can he use his body to restrain her? Yes. Can he beat her until she blacks out? No. Does this mean there a double standard between the genders when it comes to violence? Well… considering a man can kill a woman with his bare hands, yeah… you are going to have to be held accountable in a different way.  I am a really strong girl… I can hike mountains, swim across lakes, do 30 push ups – but my arms get tired after a hand job that goes on too long.  I couldn’t kill a man unless I had ninja stars! (And been trained in using said ninja stars).

    Margaret Atwood had a point when she said, “Men are afraid that women will laugh at them. Women are afraid that men will kill them.” Just as there is a biological distinction when it comes to strength, there also has to be one when it comes to liability. Yes that holds men up to a different standard when it comes to physical aggression, but the law does the same for people who are highly trained in martial arts. When fighting someone considerably weaker than you, your body can be considered a weapon.

    But you want to talk unfairness when it comes to body accountability? Ummm how about the fact women gush blood every month, then hold babies inside of them while forced to live a sober existence as their bodies are ravaged by swelling joints and hemorrhoids, only to then squeeze a skull out of their love hole which often rips to the anus creating one giant gash. Yeah… men and women are different and we have different challenges.

    So unless guys want to be genetically modified with seahorses so they become the ones who deal with pregnancy and then shooting a being out their pee hole, and in the mean time we juice women up on steroids and testosterone – maybe dudes can just not beat women and seriously endanger their lives?

    provocatoin-blog-(i)

    July 30, 2014 • Current Events, Musings, Relationships, Women's Business • Views: 1141

  • I Wanna Love you like an Animal

    When I used to smoke a lot of pot, I spent an ample amount of time watching animal shows on the Discovery Channel. It became borderline obsessive. I went to the Science Museum, on more than one occasion, to buy a $300 DVD about creatures of the jungle. For many moons I would get disturbingly high, eat cereal, and look into the eyes of these beings of the wild.

    I fantasized about going into the open tundra and documenting yacks in their natural habitats. The feeling would pass after another bong hit. I’ve always had a lot of respect for people who spend their lives in nature, observing the magnificence of animals.

    As humans we often try to find the distinction between the animal kingdom and ourselves. There is a prevailing assumption that while a part of it, we are above it. We have a superiority complex, and tend to consider ourselves civilized in simply because we wipe our own ass and don’t eat vomit. I really don’t think we are.

    When I see a lion hunting a zebra in the Serengeti, it at first seems brutal as teeth tear into flesh, and this massive beast ingests its victim raw. I am like “whoa, that shit is intense lion… settle down because you have blood all over your furry chin and that is freaking me out.” Yet that is nothing compared to genocide. Or war! At least with animal violence the scale is more reasonable as opposed to taking out a couple thousand with a bomb. Animals are pretty damn low-key in contrast.

    We anthropomorphize ourselves when we portray people as the evolved species. By attributing human traits to our human identities we rationalize barbaric behavior – when in reality we are still ruthless animals.

    So on that note… I decided it was a good idea to bring The Munch to the Friendly Farm to pet some goats and pick up baby chicks and shit.
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    July 7, 2014 • 4 years old, Adventures, Musings • Views: 1401

  • Puff Puff Pass… Wait, Not To You Mom or Dad

    My parents were pretty liberal when dealing with my “experimental phase” of smoking weed as a teenager.  I think they figured that if they made a big deal about it that would only encourage me more, and assumed it was a phase I would outgrow.  As long as I was doing well in school, they pretty much turned a blind eye.

    So if I happened to run into them after smoking pot, I would just play it cool, and they would placate me.  But thinking back to what they must have been thinking when they saw their daughter with blood shot eyes and reeking of pot trying to pretend I was sober– it must have been kind of hilarious for them.

    Example 1

    My friend Bitty and I were smoking weed outside while my parents were at the movies.  We decided we needed to eat raw cookie dough, so went into inside to make some.  The movie had sold out so my parents were home in the kitchen.

    Toni: “Oh. Hi mom.  Hi dad.”

    Mom: “Hi.”

    Toni: “Why is it so smoky in here?”

    Mom: “What?”

    Toni: “Were you guys cooking something? Why is it so smoky?”

    Mom: “What?”

    Toni: “Is the oven on? Its just really smoky in here.”

    Mom: “Ummm Toni, the only thing smoking is your head.”

    Toni: “Oh.”

    Example 2

    Again, Bitty and I were smoking weed outside, but this time we decided that we needed to eat raw cake batter and watch Alice in Wonderland.  My mom was adamant that we never ate in the living room, but we really needed to watch Alice in Wonderland while we ate the cake batter.  Since it was 3 in the morning, we snuck in the living room and figured my mom would never have to know.  But unfortunately she woke up and I heard her coming down the stairs.  So of course Bitty and I did the only logical thing.  Hide the cake batter behind the chair and tried to hide us underneath the table.

    Mom: “Toni? What are you doing underneath the table?”

    Toni: “Oh nothing.”

    Mom: “Are you trying to hide from me under a table? You know it is empty under a table right? I can see you both.”

    Toni: “Yeah, totally. We know you see us. We were just looking for something.”

    Mom: “Okay, well did you find it? Are you coming out from under there?”

    Toni: “We found it.  Yeah.  Coming out.”

    Mom: “Why is it so dark in here?”

    Toni: “We were just watching a movie.”

    Mom: “Well I am turning on the lights.”

    Toni: “Okay.”

    Mom: “Hey, were you girls eating in the living room?”

    Toni: “Nope.”

    Mom: “Are you sure you weren’t eating in the living room?”

    Toni: “Yup.”

    And then I looked over at Bitty and she had chocolate cake batter all over her face, as did I.

    Example 3

    We are smoking some weed outside on my parents terrace because I thought they weren’t home.  My dad opens the door seconds after I inhaled.  I exhaled into my shirt thinking he wouldn’t see the smoke billowing out of my armpits.

    Dad: “Its smells like roofers out here.”

    (Okay… so I lost my shit laughing.  It was too much).

    Toni: “Dad its reefer!! Not roofers!! It smells like reefer out here!”

    Dad: “Oh right! Duh”

    Its hard to say whether or not I will take the same approach as my parents did with The Munch.  I have no idea what it is like to have a teenager, and after what I put my parents through, I am sure I am really in for it.  But they were right in many ways, that it was just a phase, and it did smell like roofers.

    (Here I am at 15 going to my friend’s prom…. Yeah…. pretty sure that girl was trouble)

    pot-blog-(i)

    April 25, 2013 • 2 years old, Family Drama, Musings • Views: 932