Random Tangent: Darwin

So, I’m sitting in class while we discuss Darwinism, and I’m struck by an odd thought:

Throughout the animal kingdom, the general rule is that males jump through hoops — building homes, fighting rivals, risking being eaten to stand out with the prettiest colours — to earn the right to mate. Among Western humans, males tend to presuppose that they automatically have the right to mate — and then get upset, even violent, when they are refused.

Methinks something went wrong, somewhere.

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I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

 

Certifiable Madness

So, Ruby and I were talking the other night, and we decided some things.

Thing the First: if we’re both still single in our late 30s/early 40s, we’re gonna get married.
Thing the Second: Yes, that means Milady and I are no more. Not the important bit here.
Thing the Third: Ruby and I decided that we needed a prenuptial agreement, both to make sure that divorce can be quick, easy, and painless in the event that either of us wants to marry for love (rather than codependence), and also to protect our butts.
Thing the Fourth: We decided that, should we get married and later divorce, that we should see if we can drive the arbiter absolutely bugfuck crazy. Because that is our idea of funtimes.
Thing the Fifth: We will continue to live in the same house despite the divorce, and while we are far too civilized to quibble over the crockery, there might just be a war over the loose leaf.

Because tea fanatics we be, and that is serious shit, man. You do not fuck with the loose leaf.
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I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

Helpful Signage

Occasionally, I wish I had a programmable neon sign over my head. It would be so much more convenient than having to rely on witty t-shirts or facial expressions to communicate “I am having NONE of your shit today“.

Although, now that I’ve thought about it . . . maybe I should make a t-shirt that says that. Or several. And one that says “Due to the lack of seatbelts and/or handrails, the Ministry has decreed that only one person can ride my ass at a time. Please take a number and await your turn” while I’m at it.
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I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

Pro Tip:

If you are ever having an in-person conversation with me, and I suddenly start laughing uncontrollably while asking “What?”, it means that — however rational and/or reasonable and/or obvious it seemed — what you just said has caused the “Error: Does Not Compute” screen to flash in my brain.

Which, y’know, explains the interrogative. The laughter, well. That’s mostly because I have inappropriate responses to . . . probably a lot of things. So, y’know, if/when this happens, be kind and explain whatever thing has short-circuited my brain.

Or mine it for entertainment potential. That’s always an option. (Though you should probably prepare yourself for retaliation, in that case.)
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I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

Really, Brain?

For some reason, I really want an excuse to yell “MAYDAY, MAYDAY!”

And, also, “ABORT! ABORT!” Although the fact that there are myriad more inappropriate (and, let’s face it, downright mean) ways to use the second makes me inexplicably more cautious about using it.

But meh. We’ll just add these to the list of Random Things I Want To Do. Glitter-bombing and coffee-bombing are already on the list, so. These are relatively normal in comparison.
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I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.

Words of (Queer) Wisdom, Pt. XII

Every single sex act — from frottage to fingering, oral to intercrural, from fully clothed to partially clothed to buck-ass nude, from queer to het, vanilla to kinky and beyond — is as bizarre and messy and valid as the next. Sexual taxonomies are bullshit.
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I think this goes without saying, but as we live in a world of rampant asshattery, please allow me to state for the record: this is my intellectual property. As such, please do not copy, circulate, edit, alter, take credit for, or otherwise appropriate this material without my express permission. Thank you.