Random Esquire

1.  I feel the need for another guys night with Editor.  The ironic thing about guys night is that we talk about women the entire time.

2.  I finished all of my Christmas shopping.  Again, this isn’t because I just couldn’t wait to get started.  More that I see Christmas as a band-aid I prefer to rip off in one quick motion.

3.  Sitcom will sometimes say, “That’s so gay.”  Now, lest you think Sitcom is being derogatory, I will tell you that she is not.  She is nothing if not open minded.  However, if you don’t know Sitcom and you heard her say it, it is possible you might get that impression.  But don’t worry.  You see, every time that Sitcom says, “That’s so gay, ” she follows it by clarifying to anyone within earshot, “I mean ‘gay‘ as in ‘totally lame‘ – not like ‘gay‘ as in the totally awesome homosexual way.”

It makes me laugh every time.

4.   Little Filthy has a new baby.  It’s a moose.  He takes it everywhere.  I put his leash on today, turned to grab my coat and when I turned back, his moose was in his mouth.  I had to explain that the moose did not go outside.  Moose sleeps in the bed with us.

This is a sad, sad family.  heh.

Amy Dickinson is an advice columnist for the Chicago Tribune.  She is often on NPR, too.  I used to think she was okay.  Until she informed a woman who had been raped that she was “a victim of [her] own awful judgment.”

*insert needle scratch across record*

You can read the article here.  Basically, a girl writes to Amy and relays a story about going to a frat party, getting intoxicated and being in a room alone with a boy.  She told him no, she did not want to have sex.  At some point, she realizes that he has gone against her wishes but she has a delayed reaction due to the alcohol.  They are then interrupted and must leave the room.  She asks Amy: “I guess my question is, if I wasn’t kicking and fighting him off, is it still rape?”

What is so massively offensive about Amy’s response is that she does not say, definitively, “YES.”

Instead, she says that the woman is a victim of her own bad judgment.  Then she warns against “getting drunk at a frat house” as it may result in “unwise or unwanted sexual contact.”   The problem here is that her logic reads like this: “You got drunk at a frat party.  Don’t you know that getting drunk like that often leads to unwanted sexual contact?”

Amy seems to have forgotten that there is no rape without a rapist.  She completely skipped over that little tidbit.

You don’t just get drunk and suddenly there’s some unwanted sexual contact.  There’s another party involved who is doing the unwanted sexual contact. Perhaps Amy meant to say:   if you get drunk at a frat house, your chances of unwanted sexual contact increases because rapists are more likely to target you.  But she just leaves it at “drunk at frat house = unwanted sexual contact.”  That’s unacceptable because while it may be a woman’s choice to get drunk at a frat house, that doesn’t mean she is consenting to unwanted sexual contact.

You know why rape happens, Amy?  Because there are rapists.  Not because someone got drunk.

I won’t be purchasing another Tribune or contributing to NPR while this woman still works for them or is associated with them.

Disgusted in Chicago,

RandomEsq.

p.s.  Please pass this on to your readers and encourage their voice be heard on the Tribune’s website.  I have left my comments there, as well.

1.   For the first time in a very long time, I was unable to sleep last night because I was… angry.  Something had been bothering me and I was still stewing over it at 4 a.m. when I twittered something about being up and angry.  But I had to laugh when, in the morning, I received a couple of text message from Lynchseattle.

The first said, “Yoo upset.  I hugs yoo.”

That made me grin.

Then he followed it with, “Big hug.  A little uncomfortable for you maybe.”

That made me burst out laughing.

2.  In case you were thinking about it, do not buy your parents a totally awesome washer and dryer for Christmas.  As in, one that does steam cleaning and is completely modern and new and awesome.  Because while you will expect to pay a certain amount of money, someone will tell you how washers and dryers now come on pedestals.  Which, yes, you did know… you just forgot.   And at $250 a pop each, it’s a big forget.  Oh, and no one gets a basic white washer and dryer any more.  They want color.  Which costs $100 more each.  And then you’ll realize that you don’t want your engineer father dismantling the thing if something goes wrong and despite all evidence against it, you buy the extended warranty for them.

And then you will kindly suggest a washboard and some elbow grease.

3.  When I started to write the Folgers entry about the kid coming home from West Africa, I really meant it to be rather tongue in cheek and sarcastic.  But then?  Then I saw this article in the Huffington Post about it, a few days later.  Dude, that ad riled a lot of people!

If you’d like a Little Filthy Holiday card, please e-mail me at Randomesq {at} randomesq {dot} com and provide an address.  You, of course, do not need to provide your real name.

1. Today on the train, I overhead a man speaking. He said, “…it was a huge fuckin’ snake! Like, a boa constripper!”

That’s right.

A boa constripper.

Bow-AH Con-STRIP-pah.

2. Instigator and I went to lunch today and then for coffee afterward. While we were in line at Starbucks, she asked me for suggestions on what to get her husband for Christmas. I said, without hesitation, “A blow job. Give him a blow job.” She rolled her eyes and ignored me and said, “Really! What should I get him!” I said, “Coupons. For blow jobs.”

She stared at me. I said, “LOOK, get him what he really wants!”

And then I proceeded to poke my tongue against the inside of my cheek.

She said, “I am going to leave you standing right here – alone, talking to yourself.”

So I stopped.

Then she said, “I think I’m going to get him a pink sweater.”

*Blink*

And then I started again.

But then I stopped because I was waiting for my coffee from the barista and what’s the fun of doing that without a work girlfriend?

3.  The first thing I do upon waking is to feed the dog his breakfast.  He knows this.  So now, when my alarm goes off, there is no hitting snooze.  I’ve effectively proven Pavlov’s theory and my alarm clock is Little Filthy’s ringing bell.  The alarm goes off and within seconds, Little Filthy has his nose in my hair, my neck, my face, everywhere.

*sigh*

It’s my own fault.

I’m a great cook.