polaraxis said: I love pickle juice actually. I always thought I was bizarre for sipping on it, but I guess I’m not alone? Haha. Also, I have never had siracha, I don’t think. Given that I occasionally crave those first two things, I wonder if I’ll like it?
It’s pretty spicy in large quantities. So if you like spicy plus garlicky and vinegary, you’ll probably love it. Especially good in certain types of ramen, on anything with cream cheese, mixed with ranch or bleu dressing on top of spring mix greens, on plain warm corn tortillas. I’ve heard tell it’s also good on pizza but I have not yet tested that theory. I’ll share some of mine with you if you visit sometime (that is, if you haven’t been entirely put off by my photobooth adventures. Lawl. And assuming my spare bottle holds me…96 servings in a bottle and I’ve consumed 1/5 of the bottle today…)
Bear with me, I’m trying to figure out cultural appropriation, what it is and isn’t. My artwork has never been called racist or culturally appropriating, but I draw from a lot of of different places for inspiration, and I want to be as careful and respectful as possible…
Fat people should never admit that they need sustenance, much less like it. Admitting that you enjoy food while fat will cause the non-fat to criticize you for being unable to control yourself around food. Especially if you have a sweet tooth or like potato chips. Things like that are only acceptable if you are not fat.
Fat people are unable to have eating disorders because if they had eating disorders they would be skinny, not fat. Fat people eat too much and therefore restricting their caloric intake is a good thing, right?
Fat people do not love physical activity. Fat people do not dance, run, hike, bike, walk, jump, play organized sports, or move their bodies. Fat people never exercise and abhor the outdoors.
Fat people are never allowed to eat in public or show that they do have the basic human requirement to derive energy from food. If a fat person, for instance, eats a burrito on the way to class they are just asking for rude insensitive comments and cruelty.
Fat people are not allowed to be sexual, to get it on with a person of their choosing, to enjoy having other people enjoy their bodies, to give and receive pleasure of a physical nature. People who are partners or lovers of a fat person are considered automatically (and while this is sometimes the case, it is not always the case) to be ‘chubby chasers’ or fat fetishizers or somehow noble for loving that poor fatty. Fat people who are asexual or disinclined to physical displays of affection are that way because they can’t get any, not because this is simply who they are.
Fat people must dress ‘flatteringly’ at all times so as to minimize the impact their fatness has on other people. Fat people must also wear sacks and eschew fashion because fashion is not meant for fatties.
Fat people must never be proud of their other attributes; they must always be aware THAT THEY ARE FAT AND FAT IS BAD.
Fat people must not use public transportation or travel or do other things that force other people to come into contact with them
Fat people must be prepared to see bodies like theirs representative of evil, laziness, greed, excess, cruelty, and other such things which emphasize the idea that fatness is because of an inherent mental or personal flaw and that if you are fat, you are also all these things.
Fat people must be prepared to answer invasive questions about their diet, exercise, health history, and the like at any given time because if they didn’t want to detail their entire physical makeup for complete strangers, they shouldn’t be fat.
Fat people must believe that any sign of harrassment, sexual abuse and even rape is a good thing because they wouldn’t be getting any any other way. (actual quote said to me, post-rape).
i know there’s more. Maybe I’ll revisit this in a bit and update it.
Gorillaz were the first band I would have sold my soul for (somehow the majority of the girl- and boy- bands of my youth missed me and I didn’t become a fanatic of anything really until I hit puberty, unlike my elementary school classmates…). And Del was always my favorite collaborator (Sorry Little Dragon and Lou Reed. Though I love both of you as well…). Though I kind of hate that Gorillaz now often is credited as the artist on a lot of Del’s/Dan the Automator’s work…Gorillaz is my heart eternally but credit where credit is due and 3030 needs some love.
Anyway, somehow I missed this particular Sci-Fi epic up until a few years ago, and I’ve only just begun to really appreciate it.
Recently I asked how you learned about sex. From what I gathered from the people I spoke to, most of us did not get the “sex talk” from our parents. We talked about sex with our friends or older siblings, or just learned as we went along. This got me thinking: What would have been nice to have…
My sex ed talk came first from my dad. We were in the car and a commercial came on that was something like, “Talk to your children about sex before someone else does.” I don’t know. It was the nineties. Anyhow, there was a pause and my dad said, very seriously, “Heather, I want you to remember something. L-O-V-E spells S-E-X to guys.” Then he took a deep breath like he was very pleased with himself, and switched the conversation back to dinosaurs or some shit. I was really confused, because I’d gotten the vague idea that S-E-X was bad, but I had no idea what it was. Also, L-O-V-E? Gross.
My mom came into my fifth grade sex ed class and proceeded to talk about pregnancy. Her pregnancy. With me. I’m surprised that my heart didn’t give out from sheer embarrassment. I have a memory of trying to sink through my desk/hiding in my best friend’s lap/under her arm. Then I think she tried to tell me about blowjobs that night when I came to ask her about my math homework. Um, ew. Gross. Don’t you realize that you almost killed me today? Kthx.
That being said, I learned about sex from sex ed (genital warts look like cauliflower!), from The Sleeping Beauty Trilogy(what is this tingly feeling in my lady bits, I don’t understand!?), from the Barnes and Noble relationships & sex section (where my ex encountered his first diagram of the vagina and was able to figure out where the clit was), from comparing notes with my friends, from romance novels (all completely useless information), and from experimentation.
When I was fourteen, my friends asked me if oral sex was when you talked about sex. A girl I almost never talked to messaged me in a mild panic to ask how you went down on a guy who wasn’t circumcised. Another friend would ask me if I thought she was slut after every guy she hooked up with. For my part, I’ve been running a poll on why sex occasionally hurts so damn much since I was fifteen.
There are a lot of things I wish someone had told me about sex. Like, maybe, sex isn’t a substitute for being emotionally unavailable. Or, if the only way you can get your boyfriend to come over is to promise to fuck him, something is wrong. Or, the fact that sex hurts so much sometimes doesn’t make you a shitty person. You’re not a bad person because you can’t always stay wet. Or, it’s ok to tell him to stop. No, really. It’s ok. Or, the entire point of sex isn’t just to get your boyfriend off, which ties into one of the suggestions that the OP has: You deserve an orgasm just as much as he does.
No one said any of that to me until I moved to California. Having a vague idea about it just made me feel worse. I was too scared to even coordinate going to the health department for birth control when I was a teenager, and my crazy I-had-sex-in-this-park-and-was-caught-by-the-cops-I-am-awesome stories were pretty much my claim to fame. I had a reputation to protect.
I’ve heard people argue that the biggest failing of abstinence education is the lack of knowledge about STIs and birth control, but that wasn’t the case for me. They gave us worksheet after worksheet about the efficacy of birth control. They showed us a dozen movies about different STIs and how to identify them. I wish they had told us the early warning symptoms of pregnancy, like “You can spot while you’re pregnant and it can resemble a period, so…”
The biggest failing, to me, was the “Sex is bad” attitude. If you love yourself, you won’t do it. Guys are generally evil and lie to you and only want you for your pussy and will do anything for a piece of ass. The “I know you’re having sex, but I don’t want to know about it” conversations. The “You can come to me if you ever become sexually active and I’ll get you birth control” conversation that turns into the “You’re a dirty slut! Why are you sexually active at fifteen?!”
It’s hard to take care of yourself and to be positive about something, if you’re full of shame.
^ Yes. Especially the last two paragraphs.
My mother really tried to do it right. She sat me down with a sex-ed book entitled “It’s Perfectly Normal” at age 10 or so, and we read from it every night for a week. When I got my first period (kinda late, 13), she threw a little party for me (I was utterly mortified.). When I started dating my first real boyfriend, she came to me and told me I could ask her for help getting birth control.
When I came her two weeks later, her response was “Yeah, I said that, but I thought I would have a little while until I actually had to do that for you. Don’t you think 15 is a little young? Did you think I was encouraging you?”
So, at 15 I stopped asking questions. She had taught me everything I needed to know about STIs, anatomy, pregnancy and her concept of “womanhood” (which I didn’t want much to do with, and still don’t.). I had absolutely no grasp of the practical. No idea what to expect outside of sheer mechanics (yes, penis goes in vagina/hand/mouth and eventually ejaculates, but what about smells, sounds, is this normal?), no idea what to ask for for my own pleasure, too afraid to say no to things I didn’t want. No concept of how sexuality works into a relationship. No concept of how, sometimes, they are two entirely separate things. No idea that sometimes yeast and bladder infections just happen and as bad as it feels it’s not necessarily the end of the world, that Planned Parenthood doesn’t tattle and will give you what you need whether you can feasibly donate or not (once I used a fake name and stole money from the family change jar to get the morning after pill…). That bodies change and something that gets you off at one time won’t necessarily make you feel good forever, that something you never liked before might suddenly grow on you, that nothing is black and white or set in stone.
And at 17, when I had my first girlfriend it happened again: “Are you really a gay? You’ve always seemed straight.” And she pulled a sour face. So, suddenly I couldn’t talk about that either. Needless to say, she never saw sexuality as a spectrum. Everyone was either straight or gay, male or female and I was told simply that “gay people are to be shown tolerance,” which was never really elaborated on. When she was teaching me, we talked about gay/lesbian sexuality, but never gay/lesbian sex. I couldn’t imagine anything you could call sex that wasn’t between a male body and a female body. I think I learned about gay/lesbian sex from Gorillaz fan fiction (ohhey, this is amazing….). And I don’t think I even believed it was possibly to be bisexual/pansexual, because it was never mentioned to me except in the context of late-night radio shows and stories of straight girls making out for their boyfriends’ benefit. I thought the feelings I had were weird, maybe fake, until I started to act on them.
I haven’t even begun to think of discussing my gender with my mother. It’s hard enough to talk about with friends.
I think all in all that my mom really tried her best. I think she helped me avoid pregnancy and STIs. I only wish she had told me the things that would have helped my mental— and emotional— wellbeing surrounding sex. There are risks I shouldn’t have taken, destructive behaviors I could have avoided, boundaries I shouldn’t have pushed, things I should have asked for, times I was too afraid to say no, times when I felt like I didn’t deserve to, times when I completely fell apart over things I never needed to worry about, times I was scared, times I forced myself, times I was forced, and times I felt like the weirdest person in the universe. A lot of these early experiences still affect my sex life (and my confidence and sense of self-worth) today.
Megyn Kelly on fire hoses: “It’s a sports beverage, essentially!” Megyn Kelly on police dogs: “It’s a family pet, essentially!” Megyn Kelly on tasers: “It’s static cling, essentially!” Megyn Kelly on rubber bullets: “It’s a pencil eraser, essentially!” Megyn Kelly on hand grenades: “It’s a Fourth of July firework, essentially! God bless America.”