Wednesday, 26 February 2014
Men are like bras.
I’ve had many a strange epiphany in my life. From unearthing my resemblance to Justin Bieber to discovering the fact that people genuinely DO look like their dogs, I’m essentially the Queen of Noticing Weird Shit About the World. That being said, today brought about yet another one of my bizarre realizations: men are like bras. Yep, you heard me. Men are like bras. Admittedly, it’s one of the weirder ideas to spiral forth from the annexes of my brain, but I swear it totally makes sense when you think about it. My journey toward this enlightened idea began when I was getting dressed this morning. I hadn’t had my coffee yet and as such was approximately as mentally functional as a pinecone, so when I put on my (particularly comfortable) bra I groggily thought to myself that it felt like wearing a hug. A boob-hug. I then mentally remarked that bras would make good boyfriends, because yes, I make jokes in my head. And I laugh at them. Take me for what I am. Anyways, back to my anecdote. As the day progressed, I found that the bra-boyfriend idea kept popping into my head over and over again, so when I found my mind wandering during a particularly dry lecture it was the first thing on my thought-docket. That’s when the parallels came rushing in. I swear, bras may be man’s collective spirit-animal; the similarities are undeniable! Don’t believe me? Fortunately for you, I wrote them all down instead of taking notes (which is awkward considering that the person sitting next to me kept staring at my screen, but hey, at least I wasn’t viewing a dick pic on my phone like that guy in my Psych 101 class last year). Read on, and prepare for your mind to be BLOWN!
Similarity #1: Men and bras both come in all different shapes, sizes and colours.
A-cups. D-cups. Sports bras. Push-ups. Cotton. Lace. Ribbon. While men and bras may not bear a physical resemblance to one another or share a similar material-makeup, both are incredibly diverse groups. No two men are exactly alike, and the same can be said for bras (unless they’re manufactured that meticulously, which I doubt they are).
Similarity #2: Women have different types.
As with the men they date, every woman has a unique set of wants and needs when it comes to her bras. You have to experiment a bit and try on different types before you find the one that’s right for you, and chances are that you’ll make some poor choices along the way. However, the trial and error is all worth it because it enables you to someday find true (double-cup) love.
Similarity #3: Women avoid them until puberty hits.
The magic of pubescence brings about both the need for romantic attention and the need for a garment that prevents nips-ahoy debacles. Is it a coincidence that the cooties-phase ends at the same time that the boobies-phase begins? I think not.
Similarity #4: Some women just don’t like them.
Some ladies will never like men, and some ladies will never like bras. While some people may frown upon these facts, they’re ultimately both personal things that should be respected. So fuck the haters; you do you, gurls, whether that means embracing your sexuality or simply free-boobing every once in awhile. (Sidenote: taking off your bra at the end of a long day is akin to every female’s occasional male-free sabbatical.)
Similarity #5: It’s great if they’re nice to look at, but there are more important things.
Pretty bras are awesome. So are pretty boys. But the fact of the matter is that there are more vital things at play. If a bra is nice-looking but serves no purpose beyond that, what’s the point? Don’t waste your money. The same goes for handsome gents who lack the personality to back it up, but with time replacing money. Beauty is meaningless without substance, so don’t be drawn in by baseless lust.
Similarity #6: The best ones are supportive.
Bras gained the nickname of “over-the-shoulder boulder-holders” for a good reason: the right ones keep everything in place regardless of what you’re doing. Support is therefore vital to determining a bra’s quality, which can also be said for men. No woman should ever be with a man who doesn’t support her in all of her endeavors; you don’t need someone acting like a bandeau when you really need thick straps and a sturdy underwire, after all.
Similarity #7: They should never hurt you.
If a bra is causing you pain, you need to get rid of it. The same goes for a guy. Sure, it’s okay if they bother you every once in awhile (a twisted strap, an argument about who controls the remote…) but ultimately you should feel comfortable with them. The second that comfort disappears for a prolonged period of time and is replaced by ceaseless hurt, it’s time to chuck ‘em and find something better.
Similarity #8: They need to give you the right amount of space.
Finding the right band size is vital to purchasing a properly fitted bra. You need to ensure that it’s not too tight or too loose, and offers just the right amount of breathing room. This balance also needs to be found in relationships; no one wants to be smothered or abandoned by their significant other, and instead must strive for a happy medium. Several sets of hooks help in both cases.
Similarity #9: Don’t show them off in inappropriate ways.
No one likes to witness excessive PDA, whether it’s with a boyfriend or a bra. It’s more than okay to be happy with both, but it’s not so okay to aggressively rub them in people’s faces. The moral of the story here? Keep your clothes on in both cases.
Similarity #10: Their worlds revolve around boobs.
Bras spend all day cupping a pair of boobs. Men WISH they could spend all day cupping a pair of boobs. Need I say more?
Similarity #11: You shouldn’t put them in the laundry machine.
This may come as a surprise to you, but you shouldn’t put bras OR boys in the laundry machine. It warps their shape! I learned the hard way, trust me. With, um, a bra, of course… Ahem.
So, do you believe me now? I hope so, because I’m thinking of founding a new field of thought called philbrasophy or publishing a relationship guide called “Find a Dude by Minding Your Boobs” and I’m going to need a fanbase. If you’re still unconvinced, here’s an M. Night Shyamalan-level plot twist that might get your gears going: guys often refer to each other as “bro”. Sometimes, the pronunciation is changed so that it sounds like… Wait for it… “BRA”. Yeah. YEAH. Drink. That. In. Anyways, I’m off to the sweat lodges in search of my next great epiphany. Thanks for listening to me spit(bra)lling, and keep on keepin’ (bra)n boys and girls! ... It's been a long day, I'm sorry.
Monday, 3 February 2014
My take on "NekNominations"
The Cinnamon Challenge. The Milk Challenge. The Snort-A-Condom-Up-Your-Nose-And-Extract-It-Through-Your-Mouth-While-Simultaneously-Losing-Any-Trace-Of-Dignity-You’ve-Ever-Had Challenge (it’s a real thing, I swear). Let’s face it: our generation LOVES a good challenge, whatever said challenge may happen to entail. The newest of these challenge to sweep the interweb is being referred to as “NekNominations”. For those of you who may not have heard about the fine art of NekNominating, I’ll explain. But first, I just want to inform you that my MOTHER knows what NekNominations are so she’s officially hipper than you. Which honestly isn’t that offensive since the woman was singing “Blurred Lines” before I even knew it existed, but that’s irrelevant. Anyways, when I first heard about NekNominations, I assumed that they had something to do with stripping down to your OG onesie (my cooler way of saying “birthday suit”, obviously) since my urban sources have informed me that kids these days are using “nekkid” as a substitute for nude (poor spelling is very trendy right now). However, I was soon proven wrong when a vast bounty of videos touting titles such as “My NekNomination” started popping up all over social media. After thorough research, I’ve determined that the NekNomination process is as follows: An individual who is NekNominated must chug some sort of alcohol, film it, and include a nomination for someone else to do the same at the end of it. The process then begins anew with the person they nominated, and so on and so forth. Simple enough. Now, let’s move on to the nitty gritty of it.
As with pretty much everything ever, people are bound to start trying to up the ante. In the context of NekNominations, this has taken the form of drinking progressively more cringe-worthy concoctions of liquor, drinking greater amounts of said liquor, and/or performing the challenge in some sort of new, crazy way. Admittedly, this has resulted in some hilarious videos (a strange number of which have involved nudity, so technically I wasn’t completely wrong!). But it has also resulted in some that make me incredibly nervous. People have been downing more alcohol than they would drink over the course of an entire night in a matter of seconds, and there’s no way that’s a good idea (even if you’re Lindsay Lohan and your body shuts down if your blood alcohol level dips below the legal limit). As I’m sure you know if you’ve been following the trend, NekNominations have already resulted in two casualties, both young men in Ireland who left behind devastated family and friends simply because they wanted to be the very best (no Pokemon reference intended). That’s what really freaks me out. It’s human nature to want to beat out the competition, so despite the tragedies that have already occurred it’s likely that people are going to continue the trend even if it means ignoring their best judgment.
On the topic of “judgment”, my other qualm with NekNominations is the undeniable aspect of peer pressure involved. I know, I know, I sound like a middle school teacher, but it’s true. Nominees experience immense pressure to complete the challenge or else risk their reputation. Pardon the gender stereotyping, but I think this threat is particularly pertinent to guys as their failure to comply with something their friends have dared them to do seems like a blow to their masculinity. Over the past 24 hours alone I’ve heard several guys incite their friends to do the challenge by calling them “pussies”, and nominees themselves saying that they think the whole thing is stupid but that they feel a sense of obligation to do it in order to prove their manliness. This really grinds my gears. NO ONE should feel at all forced to do something that they don’t want to, especially in cases like this where there is a strong risk component. Beyond the obvious threat the challenge poses to one’s health and safety, there’s the additional danger of the video being seen by future employers or other peers held in high regard. Once things are on the Internet, they’re on there for good. So with this in mind, why are people being judged for taking a pass? If you feel inclined to give it a try, be my guest, but don’t give other people shit for not wanting to do the same. And to you men who are worried that saying no will emasculate you? It takes balls to ignore what your “bros” are saying and do your own thing, so you should be proud of yourself! Ladies too. No one should be allowed to think less of you just because you don’t want to do something that they want you to do. In the wise words of Albus Dumbledore, it takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to your friends.
With all of that being said, I’m fully aware that my opinion likely isn’t going to have much of an impact on the longevity of the trend. When these sorts of things go viral, they’re pretty damn invincible for a while and this will probably be the case with NekNominations. As I said earlier, the videos CAN be entertaining, so if it’s something you really want to do I’m not going to stop you. I will, however, ask that you do the following things:
1. Don’t be stupid.
2. Know your limit and play within it.
3. Take FULL control of your privacy settings. Better yet, don’t post the video on social media at all and show it to people in person if at all possible. If you wouldn’t want potential employers to see it, it really isn’t something you should share with the entire Internet.
4. Entertainment is doing something funny or creative. Entertainment is not doing something risky that could have a severely negative impact on your future.
5. Just because you can drink 10 shots in a night doesn’t mean you can drink ten shots in 30 seconds (nor should you). That’s not how alcohol works.
6. Don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable or puts you in danger. Safety first, kids!
7. Don’t get mad at the person you nominate if they don’t want to do it. They didn’t ask to be nominated, and you need to respect that. Unless they did ask, in which case you should probably find more honest friends.
8. Once more, for emphasis: DON’T BE STUPID.
Alright, that’s about all I have to say about this topic. I apologize if I have come across as a party pooper, but I felt the need to give my 50 Cents (subtle reference to the “rap game” to make myself seem cooler and decrease my party pooper status, aww yeaaahh). I’ll leave you all to your virtual shenanigans now as long as you promise me you’ll be safe. Do you promise?
***Interlude to allow readers to make promise***
Awesome! I feel like Dora the Explorer right now, making people answer me even when I’m not in the room and whatnot. This is true power. Okay, I’m done. Stay in school, don’t do drugs, say no to peer pressure, etc etc.
As with pretty much everything ever, people are bound to start trying to up the ante. In the context of NekNominations, this has taken the form of drinking progressively more cringe-worthy concoctions of liquor, drinking greater amounts of said liquor, and/or performing the challenge in some sort of new, crazy way. Admittedly, this has resulted in some hilarious videos (a strange number of which have involved nudity, so technically I wasn’t completely wrong!). But it has also resulted in some that make me incredibly nervous. People have been downing more alcohol than they would drink over the course of an entire night in a matter of seconds, and there’s no way that’s a good idea (even if you’re Lindsay Lohan and your body shuts down if your blood alcohol level dips below the legal limit). As I’m sure you know if you’ve been following the trend, NekNominations have already resulted in two casualties, both young men in Ireland who left behind devastated family and friends simply because they wanted to be the very best (no Pokemon reference intended). That’s what really freaks me out. It’s human nature to want to beat out the competition, so despite the tragedies that have already occurred it’s likely that people are going to continue the trend even if it means ignoring their best judgment.
On the topic of “judgment”, my other qualm with NekNominations is the undeniable aspect of peer pressure involved. I know, I know, I sound like a middle school teacher, but it’s true. Nominees experience immense pressure to complete the challenge or else risk their reputation. Pardon the gender stereotyping, but I think this threat is particularly pertinent to guys as their failure to comply with something their friends have dared them to do seems like a blow to their masculinity. Over the past 24 hours alone I’ve heard several guys incite their friends to do the challenge by calling them “pussies”, and nominees themselves saying that they think the whole thing is stupid but that they feel a sense of obligation to do it in order to prove their manliness. This really grinds my gears. NO ONE should feel at all forced to do something that they don’t want to, especially in cases like this where there is a strong risk component. Beyond the obvious threat the challenge poses to one’s health and safety, there’s the additional danger of the video being seen by future employers or other peers held in high regard. Once things are on the Internet, they’re on there for good. So with this in mind, why are people being judged for taking a pass? If you feel inclined to give it a try, be my guest, but don’t give other people shit for not wanting to do the same. And to you men who are worried that saying no will emasculate you? It takes balls to ignore what your “bros” are saying and do your own thing, so you should be proud of yourself! Ladies too. No one should be allowed to think less of you just because you don’t want to do something that they want you to do. In the wise words of Albus Dumbledore, it takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to your friends.
With all of that being said, I’m fully aware that my opinion likely isn’t going to have much of an impact on the longevity of the trend. When these sorts of things go viral, they’re pretty damn invincible for a while and this will probably be the case with NekNominations. As I said earlier, the videos CAN be entertaining, so if it’s something you really want to do I’m not going to stop you. I will, however, ask that you do the following things:
1. Don’t be stupid.
2. Know your limit and play within it.
3. Take FULL control of your privacy settings. Better yet, don’t post the video on social media at all and show it to people in person if at all possible. If you wouldn’t want potential employers to see it, it really isn’t something you should share with the entire Internet.
4. Entertainment is doing something funny or creative. Entertainment is not doing something risky that could have a severely negative impact on your future.
5. Just because you can drink 10 shots in a night doesn’t mean you can drink ten shots in 30 seconds (nor should you). That’s not how alcohol works.
6. Don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable or puts you in danger. Safety first, kids!
7. Don’t get mad at the person you nominate if they don’t want to do it. They didn’t ask to be nominated, and you need to respect that. Unless they did ask, in which case you should probably find more honest friends.
8. Once more, for emphasis: DON’T BE STUPID.
Alright, that’s about all I have to say about this topic. I apologize if I have come across as a party pooper, but I felt the need to give my 50 Cents (subtle reference to the “rap game” to make myself seem cooler and decrease my party pooper status, aww yeaaahh). I’ll leave you all to your virtual shenanigans now as long as you promise me you’ll be safe. Do you promise?
***Interlude to allow readers to make promise***
Awesome! I feel like Dora the Explorer right now, making people answer me even when I’m not in the room and whatnot. This is true power. Okay, I’m done. Stay in school, don’t do drugs, say no to peer pressure, etc etc.
Tuesday, 24 December 2013
(Probably Politically Incorrect and/or Mildly Offensive) Christmas Fun Facts!
It’s the most wonderful time of the year again, boys and girls! LOL JK, my December thus far has consisted of back-to-back exams, overactive sweat glands whilst shopping for presents (a parka was a poor choice… as was milk) and three days without power or heat at home due to a HUGE ice storm. Seriously. What. The. Fuck. Needless to say, I’ve been feeling far less festive this year than I usually do during the holiday season. Normally I would have been skipping around the house doing my best Mariah-Carey-in-All-I-Want-For-Christmas-Is-You vocal impersonation all day every day for the past week, but frankly I’ve lost my motivation this year. But I’m not old and/or arthritic enough to be Scroogey, so earlier this evening I decided that something must be done in order to regain my spirit before The Big Day. Naturally, being the kind of gal that I am, I figured that the best way to accomplish this was to do what I do best: write things that I think are funny, spam the internet with them, and hope that like three people get a mild chuckle out of it. I decided to go with the classic format of “fun facts that I may or may not have made up” (okay, I made all of them up) and to make the focus of said facts CHRISTMAS! Is focusing only on Christmas politically incorrect? Probably. But do you know what would be more politically incorrect? Me trying to make up fun facts about holidays I know nothing about. Boom. Stick that in your candy cane and smoke it. I’m doing the world a favour, really! Alright, it’s go time. Grab yourself some eggnog and read on.
Christmas Fact #1: Mary and Joseph once appeared on an unreleased episode of Maury Povich. Joseph wasn’t all that surprised to discover that he wasn’t the father. He was, however, surprised to discover that his homie Tyrone was.
Christmas Fact #2: No child goes to sleep with visions of sugar plums dancing through their head on Christmas Eve, nor do any of them know what a sugar plum is. Heck, I don’t even know what a sugar plum is. Seriously. Someone please tell me.
Christmas Fact #3: 78% of carolers have no idea how to pronounce “Wenceslas”.
Christmas Fact #4: The traditional Christmas story makes it clear that the shepherds knew where to find Baby Jesus because they were guided by a choir of angels. However, the story neglects to mention that said angels were of the Victoria’s Secret variety and that the shepherds were only following them because… well, wouldn’t you?
Christmas Fact #5: A “Santa Claus” is a form of speech comprised entirely of red, white, and green letters.
Christmas Fact #6: Liquor sales increase exponentially during the holiday season. While it’s generally chalked up to the fact that people often give booze as a gift, in reality it’s due to people needing to be drunk in order to cope with their extended families for prolonged periods of time.
Christmas Fact #7: It is projected that by the year 2025, the phrase “Happy Holidays!” will be deemed politically incorrect and “Neutral Christmukwaamadiwali” will take its place.
Christmas Fact #8: Santa’s elves once unionized in order to protest unpaid overtime shifts during the weeks leading up to Christmas. It was the jolliest, most adorable strike ever!
Christmas Fact #9: Immediately after Joseph asked Mary what she thought they should name their son, she yelled out “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” because epidurals weren’t a thing back then and popping a kid out is a wee bit painful from what I hear. He misinterpreted her cry as her actual response, and the rest is history.
Christmas Fact #10: Everyone is afraid that they’ll unintentionally offend someone while singing the line “make the yuletide gay”.
Christmas Fact #11: On that note, there’s a made-for-TV movie called “Make the Yuletide Gay” about an out-and-proud college student wrestling with the decision of whether or not to reveal his true sexuality to his parents over the Christmas break. Yep. That’s a thing. And it’s not even porn!
Christmas Fact #12: Many religious historians are quick to point out that Jesus’ birthday wasn’t even in the winter. Everyone else is quick to point out that literally no one gives a shit.
Christmas Fact #13: The real reason the Grinch’s heart grew so damn big is because he listened to Michael Buble’s Christmas album. Man, that guy can SING.
Christmas Fact #14: Contrary to popular belief, frankincense is NOT Frankenstein’s street-savvy cousin.
Christmas Fact #15: 84% of people hate getting socks as a gift, but 100% of Grandma’s will be offended if you don’t pretend that they’re the best thing in the world.
Christmas Fact #16: One of Santa’s reindeer was shot down by Sarah Palin while flying over Alaska. The majestic creature we know as “Blitzen” is actually an imported replacement named “Juan”. Please leave out jalapeños for his benefit; he ain’t about that carrot life.
BONUS (HANUKKAH!) FACT: The Hanukkah story centers on a one-day supply of fuel miraculously burning for eight whole days instead. Sadly, it would have been far more miraculous if an iPhone battery had lasted that long… I’m looking at you, Apple.
Well, that’s it! I hope my feeble attempts at wit helped to raise your holiday spirit a bit, regardless of what you’ll be celebrating (or have already celebrated!) this year. And if they didn’t, don’t worry: I asked Santa to bring me a better sense of humour this year, and the man is pretty magical so I have a feeling he’ll come through for me. Maybe if I leave out jalapenos for Juan I’ll get extra special treatment… It’s definitely worth a shot. Anyways, I’m off to listen to some Bubs and/or watch “Make the Yuletide Gay”. Either way, I’ll probably end up emotionally sobbing over some gingerbread. A Neutral Christmukwaamadiwali to all, and to all a good night!
Tuesday, 10 December 2013
Victoria's Dirty Little Secret
It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. It was simultaneous elating and depressing; riveting, yet repulsive. It was the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it’s that time of the year again. At 10 o’clock this evening, TVs everywhere will be displaying a parade of leggy Heidi Klum and Miranda Kerr-types strutting their stuff in intricately bedazzled bras on an equally sparkly runway. Girls everywhere will bemoan their envy of Adriana Lima, guys will drool over “boobies”, and a grand ol’ time will be had by all. What started out as nothing but a marketing strategy from one of the world’s largest lingerie companies has evolved into an annual cultural staple in North America; every year it produces more hype and gains new viewers. Superficially, this is fair enough; I mean, girls love pretty underwear and guys love girls in pretty underwear. What’s the harm in that? If it only it were that simple. Like a new medication, the Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show can come with some pretty serious side effects and they shouldn’t be ignored.
Up until this year, I saw no problem in engaging in the classic self-berating that shows up on social media whenever the fashion show airs. It’s incredibly hard to stare at women who are perceived as “perfect” by the majority of one’s peers and not to feel a little down on yourself. These women appear to have it all; big boobs, tiny waists, washboard abs, perky butts, and legs that go on for days. Not having these things makes it easy to feel inferior, and so begins a chain of statements of self-loathing. Sharing these negative thoughts creates a bonding platform for girls, and I used to think it was a fun, “we’re all in this together!” kind of activity. But today, I saw something on Twitter and it flipped a switch within me. I was scrolling through my feed, and someone I follow posted a picture of the “Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show Drinking Game.” I clicked on it, and while some of the rules were funny (ie. “Take a shot every time you have a lesbian tendency!”) others weren’t in the slightest. “Drink every time you touch your chest and shed a tear.” “Drink every time you get up and look at yourself in the mirror and ask “God, why?” “Drink every time you’re motivated to hit the gym and/or develop an eating disorder.” Um… Something is wrong with this picture. Surely I can’t be the only one who sees it. Even more troubling is the fact that this kind of stuff is all over the internet. “Ugh, VS Fashion Show tonight, never eating again!” “You’d need like four of these girls to make up one me.” “The Angels make me hate my life.” The list goes on. Self-hate has become a very warped cultural phenomenon associated with the fashion show, and I think it’s time for a reality check.
We all need to stop comparing ourselves to these unattainable ideals. No one looks like these women! These women don’t even look like these women! They go through hours of hair and makeup, are decked out with strategic padding and tape, and that’s just before all of the filtered lighting and flattering camera angles. Yes, they look beautiful, and it’s okay to think that as long as you keep in mind that a lot of it is an illusion and you remember one important thing: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL TOO! Yes, I’m talking to you! You are absolutely gorgeous. What you perceive to be flaws make you unique, and you shouldn’t put yourself down for them. Differences are beautiful. Flaws are beautiful. YOU are beautiful. It makes me so sad that we’ve all developed this gross perception that we need to fit into some perfect mold in order to be considered attractive. I’m as guilty of it as anyone; if you asked me 10 things I would change about myself, I could list them off in a matter of seconds. But I’m slowly starting to realize that this thought pattern isn’t okay. Hating your body is taking the easy way out; noticing your flaws is a piece of cake, but accepting them is incredibly challenging. It’s truly messed up, when you think about it, so we really need to try to change the way we see ourselves. If we could just look at our own bodies with the same admiration that we have for models, we’d be so much happier AND healthier. Let’s pay our friends compliments instead of bonding over our jiggly thighs and A-cups. Let’s look in the mirror and see what we love about ourselves rather than what we hate. Let’s remind ourselves not to compare ourselves to other women when we admire their beauty, and acknowledge that we too are beautiful in our own way.
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This is traditionally interpreted as “everyone finds beauty in different things”, but it means something different to me. I think that beauty is a mindset. We constantly scrutinize ourselves and others, scanning for every possible flaw, and every time we do this we allow negativity to cloud our vision. In this way, negative thinking makes finding beauty as challenging as finding something in a dark room. Sure, you might stumble onto it, but it would be a hell of a lot easier to do if you just turned on the light. So, I ask you, why don’t we just turn on the lights? Clear the negativity from our eyes and find the beauty we couldn’t see before? It seems like a damn good solution to me! Now, I’m not saying the change will be easy or instantaneous. There will most definitely be times when the positivity-bulb will flicker or the switch will get stuck on “Off”. But we still need to make the effort to think differently, since we all deserve to have a better opinion of ourselves. Anyways, I’m going to go watch the Fashion Show now. I’ll probably feel bad about myself every once in a while. It’s inevitable. But this year, I’m going to keep reminding myself that I shouldn’t think that way, and you should do the same. You know why? Because YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL! And you can’t let yourself forget that!
Up until this year, I saw no problem in engaging in the classic self-berating that shows up on social media whenever the fashion show airs. It’s incredibly hard to stare at women who are perceived as “perfect” by the majority of one’s peers and not to feel a little down on yourself. These women appear to have it all; big boobs, tiny waists, washboard abs, perky butts, and legs that go on for days. Not having these things makes it easy to feel inferior, and so begins a chain of statements of self-loathing. Sharing these negative thoughts creates a bonding platform for girls, and I used to think it was a fun, “we’re all in this together!” kind of activity. But today, I saw something on Twitter and it flipped a switch within me. I was scrolling through my feed, and someone I follow posted a picture of the “Victoria’s Secret Fashion Show Drinking Game.” I clicked on it, and while some of the rules were funny (ie. “Take a shot every time you have a lesbian tendency!”) others weren’t in the slightest. “Drink every time you touch your chest and shed a tear.” “Drink every time you get up and look at yourself in the mirror and ask “God, why?” “Drink every time you’re motivated to hit the gym and/or develop an eating disorder.” Um… Something is wrong with this picture. Surely I can’t be the only one who sees it. Even more troubling is the fact that this kind of stuff is all over the internet. “Ugh, VS Fashion Show tonight, never eating again!” “You’d need like four of these girls to make up one me.” “The Angels make me hate my life.” The list goes on. Self-hate has become a very warped cultural phenomenon associated with the fashion show, and I think it’s time for a reality check.
We all need to stop comparing ourselves to these unattainable ideals. No one looks like these women! These women don’t even look like these women! They go through hours of hair and makeup, are decked out with strategic padding and tape, and that’s just before all of the filtered lighting and flattering camera angles. Yes, they look beautiful, and it’s okay to think that as long as you keep in mind that a lot of it is an illusion and you remember one important thing: YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL TOO! Yes, I’m talking to you! You are absolutely gorgeous. What you perceive to be flaws make you unique, and you shouldn’t put yourself down for them. Differences are beautiful. Flaws are beautiful. YOU are beautiful. It makes me so sad that we’ve all developed this gross perception that we need to fit into some perfect mold in order to be considered attractive. I’m as guilty of it as anyone; if you asked me 10 things I would change about myself, I could list them off in a matter of seconds. But I’m slowly starting to realize that this thought pattern isn’t okay. Hating your body is taking the easy way out; noticing your flaws is a piece of cake, but accepting them is incredibly challenging. It’s truly messed up, when you think about it, so we really need to try to change the way we see ourselves. If we could just look at our own bodies with the same admiration that we have for models, we’d be so much happier AND healthier. Let’s pay our friends compliments instead of bonding over our jiggly thighs and A-cups. Let’s look in the mirror and see what we love about ourselves rather than what we hate. Let’s remind ourselves not to compare ourselves to other women when we admire their beauty, and acknowledge that we too are beautiful in our own way.
They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This is traditionally interpreted as “everyone finds beauty in different things”, but it means something different to me. I think that beauty is a mindset. We constantly scrutinize ourselves and others, scanning for every possible flaw, and every time we do this we allow negativity to cloud our vision. In this way, negative thinking makes finding beauty as challenging as finding something in a dark room. Sure, you might stumble onto it, but it would be a hell of a lot easier to do if you just turned on the light. So, I ask you, why don’t we just turn on the lights? Clear the negativity from our eyes and find the beauty we couldn’t see before? It seems like a damn good solution to me! Now, I’m not saying the change will be easy or instantaneous. There will most definitely be times when the positivity-bulb will flicker or the switch will get stuck on “Off”. But we still need to make the effort to think differently, since we all deserve to have a better opinion of ourselves. Anyways, I’m going to go watch the Fashion Show now. I’ll probably feel bad about myself every once in a while. It’s inevitable. But this year, I’m going to keep reminding myself that I shouldn’t think that way, and you should do the same. You know why? Because YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL! And you can’t let yourself forget that!
Sunday, 6 October 2013
Why my irrational fear of clowns is actually totally rational.
I will be the first person to admit that I have some pretty irrational fears. I freak right out when I see an insect with more than six legs, the smell and texture of bananas give me the willies, and I have nightmares about being left alone with babies or old people. Is there a valid, logical explanation for any of those reactions? Nope. Not even a little bit. They’re stupid, irrational fears that I just can’t shake, and I acknowledge that. However, I have another supposedly “irrational” fear that I refuse to dismiss so easily. What is that fear, you ask? Oh, you’re not asking? You already know since you read the title? Tough titties, I’m saying it anyways. CLOWNS. I’m terrified of clowns. As I’m sure anyone who shares my fear (called coulrophobia, if you feel like being fancy) will surely know, admitting that you’re afraid of clowns is somewhat socially acceptable, but still pretty embarrassing. “They’re just people!” after all, and “Their purpose is to make us laugh!” What’s so scary about that? SO MANY THINGS. So. Many. Things. Don’t believe me? You will soon.
Like all great things, my fear of clowns has an origin story. Is it as badass as Wolverine’s? No. But it’s physically impossible for anyone to have an origin story as badass as his so that’s to be expected. Anyways, let’s begin. The year was 1997 (give or take 2 years). The location? A grocery store. I was strapped into one of those germ-coated metal buggies while my lovely mother shopped for Dunkaroos and other traditional 90s fare. To this day I’m unsure of the occasion, but for some reason a celebration was taking place in the store. There were balloons and free samples; the atmosphere was joyful. Except for one dark blemish on the face of the festivities: a clown. My mother and I first encountered this demonic creature upon entering the store, and lil tater-tot me was having NONE of it and so began to cry. I have an image of this particular clown scorched into my brain, and it still chills me to the bone. He was one of those particularly frightening clowns that aren’t in full makeup but are still wearing enough to look unusual, kind of like a mentally unstable homeless person who bought the wrong shade of foundation. Being the protective Mama Bear that she is, my mum told the guy to hop off since clearly I was not a fan of his tomfoolery. He made one of those sad faces that clowns make and skulked away. Thinking that was the end of it, I stopped crying and we proceeded to shop unassumingly until BOOM, Mr. Clown popped out from behind a display in one of the aisles. Naturally, I was pants-shittingly terrified and had a very loud, very public meltdown. My mum proceeded to ream the guy out for following us after she had very explicitly told him not to, and he replied that he had just wanted to make me laugh. Seriously, buddy? You were trying to make me “laugh”? WHO THE FUCK MAKES SOMEONE LAUGH BY JUMPING OUT FROM BEHIND SOMETHING AND TAKING THEM OFF GUARD? SERIOUSLY, WHO? I don’t remember what happened next, but I like to think that my mum roundhouse kicked that circus freak in the face because that’s the kind of awesome lady she is. NO ONE messes with her bebes.
That fateful incident ignited a deep fear in me, and that fear just grew and grew. I had occasional panic attacks while watching the Big Comfy Couch. I had to skip birthday parties. I couldn’t look at pictures of Pamela Anderson without screaming and covering my eyes. It was crippling. The worst part of it all was that people didn’t understand why I was so afraid. I felt like a freak. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to the very important understanding that I’m no freak. CLOWNS are the freaks. When you break it down, there are so many aspects of their existence that are downright weird. First and foremost, why must they disguise themselves? No one wears makeup that thick and wigs that distracting unless they’re hiding something. You know what other people use those sort of tactics to disguise themselves? Criminals. And the Kardashians, but that’s a topic for another time. If someone is wearing a disguise, chances are there’s a good reason for it, and as far as clowns are concerned I do NOT want to find out what that reason is. Secondly, their shoes. Why so big? I’m betting it’s so that they can store their weapons in a convenient but inconspicuous place. I’ve never come into contact with a clown’s shoes, but I bet if I did I’d find a mace or a revolver or nunchakus. And then there’s their cars. How do so many of them fit into such a small space if not for shapeshifting abilities? The implications of this are horrifying; they could be anything, any time, anywhere and we would have no idea. SEE HOW MUCH POWER THEY POSSESS? How is that not terrifying? When you combine all of these things with the fact that it is literally clowns’ jobs to entertain and delight, thus distracting the general populus from their evil plots, it becomes clear that they’re up to no good. Before we know it, those plastic flowers will be squirting out hydrochloric acid and they’ll be handing out balloons filled with potent carbon monoxide gas. We must stop them while we still can. We can’t allow a clownpocalypse, people, WE JUST CAN’T.
…Okay, after rereading that last paragraph I’m starting to question my sanity a little bit, but I still believe in the ideas at the very core of my reasoning. With all of these undeniable factors at play, I don’t think anyone can truly say that there’s nothing menacing about clowns. I may have a traumatic childhood experience to blame for my coulrophobia, but the fact that so many people share in my terror despite lacking a concrete reason is kind of a red flag. There’s definitely something fishy here. Perhaps it’s one of those big plastic fish that some clowns keep in their pants as a part of their shtick, or perhaps it’s something more. I’ll leave that judgment up to you. But for those of you who still believe that clowns are just harmless entertainment, I have two final things to say: 1) Being afraid of clowns is totally rational, so y’all need to stop judging us for it. 2) If a clown kidnaps you in your sleep and fashions your skin into a jacket, you can’t say I didn’t warn you. SLEEP WELL, FOLKS.
Like all great things, my fear of clowns has an origin story. Is it as badass as Wolverine’s? No. But it’s physically impossible for anyone to have an origin story as badass as his so that’s to be expected. Anyways, let’s begin. The year was 1997 (give or take 2 years). The location? A grocery store. I was strapped into one of those germ-coated metal buggies while my lovely mother shopped for Dunkaroos and other traditional 90s fare. To this day I’m unsure of the occasion, but for some reason a celebration was taking place in the store. There were balloons and free samples; the atmosphere was joyful. Except for one dark blemish on the face of the festivities: a clown. My mother and I first encountered this demonic creature upon entering the store, and lil tater-tot me was having NONE of it and so began to cry. I have an image of this particular clown scorched into my brain, and it still chills me to the bone. He was one of those particularly frightening clowns that aren’t in full makeup but are still wearing enough to look unusual, kind of like a mentally unstable homeless person who bought the wrong shade of foundation. Being the protective Mama Bear that she is, my mum told the guy to hop off since clearly I was not a fan of his tomfoolery. He made one of those sad faces that clowns make and skulked away. Thinking that was the end of it, I stopped crying and we proceeded to shop unassumingly until BOOM, Mr. Clown popped out from behind a display in one of the aisles. Naturally, I was pants-shittingly terrified and had a very loud, very public meltdown. My mum proceeded to ream the guy out for following us after she had very explicitly told him not to, and he replied that he had just wanted to make me laugh. Seriously, buddy? You were trying to make me “laugh”? WHO THE FUCK MAKES SOMEONE LAUGH BY JUMPING OUT FROM BEHIND SOMETHING AND TAKING THEM OFF GUARD? SERIOUSLY, WHO? I don’t remember what happened next, but I like to think that my mum roundhouse kicked that circus freak in the face because that’s the kind of awesome lady she is. NO ONE messes with her bebes.
That fateful incident ignited a deep fear in me, and that fear just grew and grew. I had occasional panic attacks while watching the Big Comfy Couch. I had to skip birthday parties. I couldn’t look at pictures of Pamela Anderson without screaming and covering my eyes. It was crippling. The worst part of it all was that people didn’t understand why I was so afraid. I felt like a freak. But as I’ve grown older, I’ve come to the very important understanding that I’m no freak. CLOWNS are the freaks. When you break it down, there are so many aspects of their existence that are downright weird. First and foremost, why must they disguise themselves? No one wears makeup that thick and wigs that distracting unless they’re hiding something. You know what other people use those sort of tactics to disguise themselves? Criminals. And the Kardashians, but that’s a topic for another time. If someone is wearing a disguise, chances are there’s a good reason for it, and as far as clowns are concerned I do NOT want to find out what that reason is. Secondly, their shoes. Why so big? I’m betting it’s so that they can store their weapons in a convenient but inconspicuous place. I’ve never come into contact with a clown’s shoes, but I bet if I did I’d find a mace or a revolver or nunchakus. And then there’s their cars. How do so many of them fit into such a small space if not for shapeshifting abilities? The implications of this are horrifying; they could be anything, any time, anywhere and we would have no idea. SEE HOW MUCH POWER THEY POSSESS? How is that not terrifying? When you combine all of these things with the fact that it is literally clowns’ jobs to entertain and delight, thus distracting the general populus from their evil plots, it becomes clear that they’re up to no good. Before we know it, those plastic flowers will be squirting out hydrochloric acid and they’ll be handing out balloons filled with potent carbon monoxide gas. We must stop them while we still can. We can’t allow a clownpocalypse, people, WE JUST CAN’T.
…Okay, after rereading that last paragraph I’m starting to question my sanity a little bit, but I still believe in the ideas at the very core of my reasoning. With all of these undeniable factors at play, I don’t think anyone can truly say that there’s nothing menacing about clowns. I may have a traumatic childhood experience to blame for my coulrophobia, but the fact that so many people share in my terror despite lacking a concrete reason is kind of a red flag. There’s definitely something fishy here. Perhaps it’s one of those big plastic fish that some clowns keep in their pants as a part of their shtick, or perhaps it’s something more. I’ll leave that judgment up to you. But for those of you who still believe that clowns are just harmless entertainment, I have two final things to say: 1) Being afraid of clowns is totally rational, so y’all need to stop judging us for it. 2) If a clown kidnaps you in your sleep and fashions your skin into a jacket, you can’t say I didn’t warn you. SLEEP WELL, FOLKS.
Tuesday, 3 September 2013
5 Significant Flaws Possessed by the Disney Princesses
Ever since Snow White and the Seven Dwarves first came out in 1937, the Disney princesses have been prominent figures in the childhoods of young girls (and boys!) all over the world. They represent a form of life that seems to be directly out of a dream; opulence, glamour, cheery little animal companions and the perfect man. What could be better? And they do more than just embody this ideal: they serve as role models. And that’s totally fair, right? They’re powerful women who get to live out their dreams, that’s a great thing for children to aspire to! Well, here’s the thing. When you look past the glass slippers and the ballgowns, the fact of that matter is that nearly all of the Disney princesses possess some pretty significant character flaws. I know, I know, it’s hard to believe. They’re supposed to be perfect! But newsflash: no one is perfect. Not even someone with a fairy godmother or a magical singing voice. Still in denial? Take a gander below where I’ve broken down the often overlooked issues with each of five popular princesses. I apologize in advance for ruining your childhood.
Case 1: Belle
Flaw: Pretty dumb for a smart girl.
In case any of you have forgotten how exactly Belle came to be imprisoned by the Beast, here’s a refresher. Belle’s father, Maurice, stumbles upon the Beast’s castle and is immediately taken captive. Maurice’s horse, being the freaky-smart Disney animal that he is, travels back to the village and leads Belle to where her father is being held. She then proceeds to offer herself as captive in his place. A truly courageous, gallant act, I know. But when you think about it, also kinda dumb. At the beginning of the movie, we learn some important facts about Belle. The first is that she’s incredibly smart. She reads, and in the context of the Disney universe that basically makes her a Nobel laureate. The second thing we learn is that every guy ever is totally in love with her. When she walks down the street, windows fly open and men call out to greet her while their wives slave away in the kitchen and call her a whore. She’s the pride and joy of the village! People would do anything for her! That being said, as a single female, Belle has many men looking to secure her hand in marriage. Many big, strong men who are willing to do anything to win her affection… Hm, think they could have helped her get her dad back without her having to take his place as prisoner? I would say so! Think about the mob that Gaston brings to kill the Beast at the end of the movie. Belle easily could have had that on her side, but instead she chooses to follow her father’s horse into a spooky forest all alone and to enter the big, sketchy castle. If she’s actually as smart as she’s made out to be, why the hell didn’t she just ask someone for help? We get it Belle, you’re a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man, but there’s no shame in asking for some help in a dire situation. I mean yeah, Gaston is a huge douche, but homie is beefy as HELL. And if you’re worried about him getting handsy enroute to the rescue, just ask some other people to come along. It’s a simple solution, and if the plan succeeded it would allow you to steer clear of the beastiality allegations you’ll likely face for the rest of your life. Is your pride really so great that you refuse to ask for help even if it means ensuring your father’s safety? Like I said, Belle, you’re pretty dumb for a smart girl.
Case 2: Ariel
Flaw: Straight-up cray cray.
Ariel is probably one of the most popular Disney princesses, likely because of the fact that she’s a mermaid. When you’re a little girl, mermaids are the bomb dot com. Back in the day, I used to pretend to be a mermaid every single time I went swimming. I fantasized about being just like Ariel; what could be better than being able to breathe underwater and fill out a seashell bra? Sadly, I can only do one of those things today (as to which one it is, the answer may surprise you), but I’m not too heartbroken since I’ve come to a very important realization: Ariel was batshit insane. When you really think about it, all of her endearing mermaid quirks wouldn’t be so endearing in real life. Right off the bat, we receive a red flag about Ariel when we enter her secret lair. There’s stuff EVERYWHERE. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see it on an episode of Hoarding: Buried Alive. I understand collecting things recreationally, but this is some next level stuff and the fact that she feels the need to hide it speaks volumes. If her hoarding isn’t enough to call her sanity into question, her infatuation with Prince Eric definitely is. She first spots him from afar while lurking in the water near his ship, and is immediately DTF even though I’m pretty sure mermaids don’t have the necessary lady parts for that. In a dramatic turn of events, a storm destroys the prince’s ship, and Ariel rushes to save him. Then she sings to him while he’s unconscious… Because that’s not weird or anything. Anyways, after returning to her home in the sea, Ariel presumably builds a shrine to the object of her new obsession and decides that she must become a part of his world through any means necessary. This naturally translates into her giving up her voice in order to transform into a human and go ashore. Great idea, Ariel! Why would you ever need to talk to Prince Eric in order to get him to fall in love with you? A single look should be enough! …And to think her plight on land is supposed to be tragic and surprising. She seriously had it coming. Yes, in the Disney adaptation of the story she ultimately lives happily ever with the prince, so her sacrifice isn’t for naught. But in the more realistic, original version of the story, she ends up getting her heart broken and turning into seafoam. It’s a sad turn of fate, but don’t worry, her spirit lives on through the Overly Attached Girlfriend meme. The moral of the story here? Bitches be CRAZY.
Case 3: Pocahontas
Flaw: Daddy issues.
Pocahontas is a pretty special gal. She often hears wolves cry to the blue corn moon; she can sing with all the voices of the mountain; she can paint with all the colours of the wind… Oh, and she has MAD daddy issues. Now, I’m sure any of you who are faithful fans of the movie will be quick to point out that Pocahontas has a very valid reason to resent her father; she fears that he will force her to wed Kocoum, a man with whom she feels she isn’t compatible. Don’t get me wrong, that’s totally fair. I too would be pretty damn peeved if I thought my dad was going to marry me off to some guy who couldn’t keep his hands off of his spear (Ha! Penis joke!). But I think there’s more to the story than that. When Pocahontas was young, her mother passed away, leaving her father to raise her on his own. This responsibility of his was complicated by the fact that he also happened to be the powerful chief of their tribe, and therefore a very busy man. Thus, Pocahontas didn’t get enough attention from her pops as she struggled with the trials and tribulations of young adulthood (ie. Shopping for her first deerskin bra), and naturally she developed the urge to rebel and make him notice her. And what better way to do that then to fervently reject his choice of suitor and instead chase after John Smith, a foreigner with big guns and also weapons? Clearly befriending a raccoon and talking to a tree wasn’t cutting it, so she needed to go big or go home. Her plan works a little too well and soon her new romance starts an all-out war. Kocoum is the first casualty, leading Papa Chief to arrange the execution of Pocahontas’ man-love. This is the perfect situation for our heroine to gain her father’s attention, so of course she screams and shouts and lets it all out until he decides to spare John’s life out of love for his daughter. Somehow during the hubbub John ends up getting shot anyways, but we know that his wound isn’t fatal because only parents die in Disney movies. Unfortunately, he’s forced to return to his home in England to receive medical help, separating him from Pocahontas, but before shit can get TOO sad, Papa Chief makes the beautiful gesture of telling John that he is welcome back at any time, a sentiment that is seconded by Pocahontas. Aw, ain’t that sweet? Well, it is until you think about what will probably happen next in the series of events. My predictions:
1. John Smith goes back to England, tells everyone about how the crazy natives tried to kill him, and never returns to the New World.
2. Pocahontas decides that she hates him anyways because her dad seems to like him now, and instead mourns the death of her “true love” Kocoum.
3. Papa Chief distributes blankets that were given to him as a gift from John Smith. Everyone gets smallpox.
And they lived happily ever after!
Case 4: Cinderella
Flaw: Never defended herself.
Poor Cinderella, her life went to crap in the blink of an eye. She was once the happy and well-loved daughter of a nobleman, but her father’s untimely death left her at the hands of her insanely bitchy stepmother and her nightmarish daughters. The trio subjected sweet little Cindy to the most cruel of treatments, forcing her to cook and clean and wear boring clothing. They even let their asshole of a cat (conveniently named Lucifer… what are you hinting at, Walt?) screw with her and her anthropomorphic mice friends. What nerve! But as bad as I feel for Cinderella, there’s one thing that really bothers me: she never sticks up for herself. She takes SO much shit from her stepmonster and stepsisters (possibly even literally, chamber pots were still a thing back then) and doesn’t say a word. And here’s the thing: she 100% has the right to stick up for herself. These betches are living in her house, spending her money, and yet ordering her around. What’s up with that? Instead of mopping their floors and mending their ballgowns, she should’ve just yelled “FUCK ALL Y’ALL”, flipped them the double bird, and contacted whatever sort of law enforcement magical kingdoms have to get them kicked out of her house. Or at the very least, she should have spit in their food or wiped her ass with their pillowcases. It’s the little things that matter! Even when the prince’s posse comes to her house with her lost slipper, she’s pretty much a doormat. When her stepmonster realizes that she’s the woman the prince is searching for and locks her away so he can’t find her, she doesn’t put up a fight. C’mon Cindy, an uppercut to the nose or a swift kick in the ovaries is all you need to be with your true love! Or you could’ve just screamed and banged on the door or something, chances are that one of the royal peeps would have heard and investigated. But no, Cinderella’s happily ever after is repeatedly salvaged not by her, but by the clever and swift action of her animal friends. Yes, I’m still weirded out by the fact that the mice have clothing, but hey, there’s no denying that they’re smart. And unlike a certain princess, they’re actually willing to take initiative. Hopefully marrying Prince Charming allowed her to finally grow a pair.
Case 5: Snow White
Flaw: Really, REALLY poor judgement.
Ah, Snow White. So sweet, so innocent, and so very pale (I feel you, girl. I feel you.) Snow reminds me a bit of the chick from Mean Girls who wishes she could make a cake out of rainbows and smiles. All she wants is for the world to be a super duper hippity-happy place, and not even her royal beeyotch of a stepmother can get her down. You can’t help but admire the girl’s optimism, but her tendency to always look on the bright side lies at the root of her biggest flaw: extremely poor judgement. Her belief in the good in everyone repeatedly gets her into trouble. First off, when Queen B (note: not referring to Beyonce) sends a huntsman to take her into the forest and hack out her heart with an axe, she willingly goes with him. And he wasn’t even that good looking! Luckily, the huntsman decides that he simply cannot obey Queen B’s orders because of Snow’s “kindness” (translation: she had a nice rack), but before you know it she’s doing stupid shit again. Let me ask you a question: you’re a single, attractive female in an isolated section of the woods. You come across an empty cabin with seven tiny chairs, beds, etc. Do you assume that the cabin belongs to a group of sweet little orphans and immediately proceed to clean their home and take a nap, hoping that they’ll be pleased to discover your presence? Hell no. You get your ass out of that creepy little house and flee as fast as you can. Or AT LEAST hide behind a tree and wait until the inhabitants come home so you know what you’re dealing with. Fortunately, Snow once again lucks out and finds the homeowners to be a jovial group of dwarves. What a relief! Wait… they’re all men… and she’s a hottie… and alone in the woods… Girl, get out of there! They may be small, but if they teamed up they could overpower you. I know their beds say “Sneezy” and “Dopey”, but for all you know they should really say “Pervy” and “Gropey”. Sounds to me like an episode of Criminal Minds just waiting to happen. But yet again, Snow’s poor judgement has no consequences; the dwarves prove to be swell little guys. By this time you kind of just want something to go terribly wrong for her so you can feel better about yourself. Cue the poisoned apple. I’m sorry, but I have zero sympathy for Snow White in this particular situation. If a freaky old lady in a cloak comes up to you and offers you fruit, DO NOT TAKE IT. That’s like passing by an angry meth-addict lurking in a dark alleyway and asking to borrow their needle. There’s literally no way that it can go well. But somehow, for Snow, it does: after falling into a deep sleep (dying…?) as a result of the apple, she wakes up to a hunky prince standing over her bed. REALLY? She can go into a friggin’ coma and things will STILL turn out well? Damn, this chick should buy a lottery ticket. Or maybe I’ll just have to start using poor judgement and see if a prince shows up over my bed… See, THIS IS WHY THE DISNEY PRINCESSES ARE BAD ROLE MODELS!
Perhaps what I have said is harsh. Okay, it’s definitely harsh. I’m sure that the wonderful people at Disney had no intent of brainwashing young girls into idolizing deeply flawed individuals or anything of the sort. That would just be silly! Although it’s actually a well-known fact that Disney used to produce propaganda back in the day… And there are some pretty sinister rumors about the head mouse himself… Oh god. I have some animal movies to dissect. I have a feeling that something at the heart of the Lion King is responsible for everything that is wrong with me. But that’s beside the point. Regardless of whether or not Disney is secretly evil, one thing is for sure: its princesses aren’t going anywhere. And despite their issues, I’m totally okay with that. Like I said before, nobody’s perfect, so why should our idols be? The lesson at the heart of their stories is an important one: despite our flaws, our dreams can still come true. And we can live happily, although imperfectly, ever after.
THE END
Case 1: Belle
Flaw: Pretty dumb for a smart girl.
In case any of you have forgotten how exactly Belle came to be imprisoned by the Beast, here’s a refresher. Belle’s father, Maurice, stumbles upon the Beast’s castle and is immediately taken captive. Maurice’s horse, being the freaky-smart Disney animal that he is, travels back to the village and leads Belle to where her father is being held. She then proceeds to offer herself as captive in his place. A truly courageous, gallant act, I know. But when you think about it, also kinda dumb. At the beginning of the movie, we learn some important facts about Belle. The first is that she’s incredibly smart. She reads, and in the context of the Disney universe that basically makes her a Nobel laureate. The second thing we learn is that every guy ever is totally in love with her. When she walks down the street, windows fly open and men call out to greet her while their wives slave away in the kitchen and call her a whore. She’s the pride and joy of the village! People would do anything for her! That being said, as a single female, Belle has many men looking to secure her hand in marriage. Many big, strong men who are willing to do anything to win her affection… Hm, think they could have helped her get her dad back without her having to take his place as prisoner? I would say so! Think about the mob that Gaston brings to kill the Beast at the end of the movie. Belle easily could have had that on her side, but instead she chooses to follow her father’s horse into a spooky forest all alone and to enter the big, sketchy castle. If she’s actually as smart as she’s made out to be, why the hell didn’t she just ask someone for help? We get it Belle, you’re a strong, independent woman who don’t need no man, but there’s no shame in asking for some help in a dire situation. I mean yeah, Gaston is a huge douche, but homie is beefy as HELL. And if you’re worried about him getting handsy enroute to the rescue, just ask some other people to come along. It’s a simple solution, and if the plan succeeded it would allow you to steer clear of the beastiality allegations you’ll likely face for the rest of your life. Is your pride really so great that you refuse to ask for help even if it means ensuring your father’s safety? Like I said, Belle, you’re pretty dumb for a smart girl.
Case 2: Ariel
Flaw: Straight-up cray cray.
Ariel is probably one of the most popular Disney princesses, likely because of the fact that she’s a mermaid. When you’re a little girl, mermaids are the bomb dot com. Back in the day, I used to pretend to be a mermaid every single time I went swimming. I fantasized about being just like Ariel; what could be better than being able to breathe underwater and fill out a seashell bra? Sadly, I can only do one of those things today (as to which one it is, the answer may surprise you), but I’m not too heartbroken since I’ve come to a very important realization: Ariel was batshit insane. When you really think about it, all of her endearing mermaid quirks wouldn’t be so endearing in real life. Right off the bat, we receive a red flag about Ariel when we enter her secret lair. There’s stuff EVERYWHERE. I wouldn’t be at all surprised to see it on an episode of Hoarding: Buried Alive. I understand collecting things recreationally, but this is some next level stuff and the fact that she feels the need to hide it speaks volumes. If her hoarding isn’t enough to call her sanity into question, her infatuation with Prince Eric definitely is. She first spots him from afar while lurking in the water near his ship, and is immediately DTF even though I’m pretty sure mermaids don’t have the necessary lady parts for that. In a dramatic turn of events, a storm destroys the prince’s ship, and Ariel rushes to save him. Then she sings to him while he’s unconscious… Because that’s not weird or anything. Anyways, after returning to her home in the sea, Ariel presumably builds a shrine to the object of her new obsession and decides that she must become a part of his world through any means necessary. This naturally translates into her giving up her voice in order to transform into a human and go ashore. Great idea, Ariel! Why would you ever need to talk to Prince Eric in order to get him to fall in love with you? A single look should be enough! …And to think her plight on land is supposed to be tragic and surprising. She seriously had it coming. Yes, in the Disney adaptation of the story she ultimately lives happily ever with the prince, so her sacrifice isn’t for naught. But in the more realistic, original version of the story, she ends up getting her heart broken and turning into seafoam. It’s a sad turn of fate, but don’t worry, her spirit lives on through the Overly Attached Girlfriend meme. The moral of the story here? Bitches be CRAZY.
Case 3: Pocahontas
Flaw: Daddy issues.
Pocahontas is a pretty special gal. She often hears wolves cry to the blue corn moon; she can sing with all the voices of the mountain; she can paint with all the colours of the wind… Oh, and she has MAD daddy issues. Now, I’m sure any of you who are faithful fans of the movie will be quick to point out that Pocahontas has a very valid reason to resent her father; she fears that he will force her to wed Kocoum, a man with whom she feels she isn’t compatible. Don’t get me wrong, that’s totally fair. I too would be pretty damn peeved if I thought my dad was going to marry me off to some guy who couldn’t keep his hands off of his spear (Ha! Penis joke!). But I think there’s more to the story than that. When Pocahontas was young, her mother passed away, leaving her father to raise her on his own. This responsibility of his was complicated by the fact that he also happened to be the powerful chief of their tribe, and therefore a very busy man. Thus, Pocahontas didn’t get enough attention from her pops as she struggled with the trials and tribulations of young adulthood (ie. Shopping for her first deerskin bra), and naturally she developed the urge to rebel and make him notice her. And what better way to do that then to fervently reject his choice of suitor and instead chase after John Smith, a foreigner with big guns and also weapons? Clearly befriending a raccoon and talking to a tree wasn’t cutting it, so she needed to go big or go home. Her plan works a little too well and soon her new romance starts an all-out war. Kocoum is the first casualty, leading Papa Chief to arrange the execution of Pocahontas’ man-love. This is the perfect situation for our heroine to gain her father’s attention, so of course she screams and shouts and lets it all out until he decides to spare John’s life out of love for his daughter. Somehow during the hubbub John ends up getting shot anyways, but we know that his wound isn’t fatal because only parents die in Disney movies. Unfortunately, he’s forced to return to his home in England to receive medical help, separating him from Pocahontas, but before shit can get TOO sad, Papa Chief makes the beautiful gesture of telling John that he is welcome back at any time, a sentiment that is seconded by Pocahontas. Aw, ain’t that sweet? Well, it is until you think about what will probably happen next in the series of events. My predictions:
1. John Smith goes back to England, tells everyone about how the crazy natives tried to kill him, and never returns to the New World.
2. Pocahontas decides that she hates him anyways because her dad seems to like him now, and instead mourns the death of her “true love” Kocoum.
3. Papa Chief distributes blankets that were given to him as a gift from John Smith. Everyone gets smallpox.
And they lived happily ever after!
Case 4: Cinderella
Flaw: Never defended herself.
Poor Cinderella, her life went to crap in the blink of an eye. She was once the happy and well-loved daughter of a nobleman, but her father’s untimely death left her at the hands of her insanely bitchy stepmother and her nightmarish daughters. The trio subjected sweet little Cindy to the most cruel of treatments, forcing her to cook and clean and wear boring clothing. They even let their asshole of a cat (conveniently named Lucifer… what are you hinting at, Walt?) screw with her and her anthropomorphic mice friends. What nerve! But as bad as I feel for Cinderella, there’s one thing that really bothers me: she never sticks up for herself. She takes SO much shit from her stepmonster and stepsisters (possibly even literally, chamber pots were still a thing back then) and doesn’t say a word. And here’s the thing: she 100% has the right to stick up for herself. These betches are living in her house, spending her money, and yet ordering her around. What’s up with that? Instead of mopping their floors and mending their ballgowns, she should’ve just yelled “FUCK ALL Y’ALL”, flipped them the double bird, and contacted whatever sort of law enforcement magical kingdoms have to get them kicked out of her house. Or at the very least, she should have spit in their food or wiped her ass with their pillowcases. It’s the little things that matter! Even when the prince’s posse comes to her house with her lost slipper, she’s pretty much a doormat. When her stepmonster realizes that she’s the woman the prince is searching for and locks her away so he can’t find her, she doesn’t put up a fight. C’mon Cindy, an uppercut to the nose or a swift kick in the ovaries is all you need to be with your true love! Or you could’ve just screamed and banged on the door or something, chances are that one of the royal peeps would have heard and investigated. But no, Cinderella’s happily ever after is repeatedly salvaged not by her, but by the clever and swift action of her animal friends. Yes, I’m still weirded out by the fact that the mice have clothing, but hey, there’s no denying that they’re smart. And unlike a certain princess, they’re actually willing to take initiative. Hopefully marrying Prince Charming allowed her to finally grow a pair.
Case 5: Snow White
Flaw: Really, REALLY poor judgement.
Ah, Snow White. So sweet, so innocent, and so very pale (I feel you, girl. I feel you.) Snow reminds me a bit of the chick from Mean Girls who wishes she could make a cake out of rainbows and smiles. All she wants is for the world to be a super duper hippity-happy place, and not even her royal beeyotch of a stepmother can get her down. You can’t help but admire the girl’s optimism, but her tendency to always look on the bright side lies at the root of her biggest flaw: extremely poor judgement. Her belief in the good in everyone repeatedly gets her into trouble. First off, when Queen B (note: not referring to Beyonce) sends a huntsman to take her into the forest and hack out her heart with an axe, she willingly goes with him. And he wasn’t even that good looking! Luckily, the huntsman decides that he simply cannot obey Queen B’s orders because of Snow’s “kindness” (translation: she had a nice rack), but before you know it she’s doing stupid shit again. Let me ask you a question: you’re a single, attractive female in an isolated section of the woods. You come across an empty cabin with seven tiny chairs, beds, etc. Do you assume that the cabin belongs to a group of sweet little orphans and immediately proceed to clean their home and take a nap, hoping that they’ll be pleased to discover your presence? Hell no. You get your ass out of that creepy little house and flee as fast as you can. Or AT LEAST hide behind a tree and wait until the inhabitants come home so you know what you’re dealing with. Fortunately, Snow once again lucks out and finds the homeowners to be a jovial group of dwarves. What a relief! Wait… they’re all men… and she’s a hottie… and alone in the woods… Girl, get out of there! They may be small, but if they teamed up they could overpower you. I know their beds say “Sneezy” and “Dopey”, but for all you know they should really say “Pervy” and “Gropey”. Sounds to me like an episode of Criminal Minds just waiting to happen. But yet again, Snow’s poor judgement has no consequences; the dwarves prove to be swell little guys. By this time you kind of just want something to go terribly wrong for her so you can feel better about yourself. Cue the poisoned apple. I’m sorry, but I have zero sympathy for Snow White in this particular situation. If a freaky old lady in a cloak comes up to you and offers you fruit, DO NOT TAKE IT. That’s like passing by an angry meth-addict lurking in a dark alleyway and asking to borrow their needle. There’s literally no way that it can go well. But somehow, for Snow, it does: after falling into a deep sleep (dying…?) as a result of the apple, she wakes up to a hunky prince standing over her bed. REALLY? She can go into a friggin’ coma and things will STILL turn out well? Damn, this chick should buy a lottery ticket. Or maybe I’ll just have to start using poor judgement and see if a prince shows up over my bed… See, THIS IS WHY THE DISNEY PRINCESSES ARE BAD ROLE MODELS!
Perhaps what I have said is harsh. Okay, it’s definitely harsh. I’m sure that the wonderful people at Disney had no intent of brainwashing young girls into idolizing deeply flawed individuals or anything of the sort. That would just be silly! Although it’s actually a well-known fact that Disney used to produce propaganda back in the day… And there are some pretty sinister rumors about the head mouse himself… Oh god. I have some animal movies to dissect. I have a feeling that something at the heart of the Lion King is responsible for everything that is wrong with me. But that’s beside the point. Regardless of whether or not Disney is secretly evil, one thing is for sure: its princesses aren’t going anywhere. And despite their issues, I’m totally okay with that. Like I said before, nobody’s perfect, so why should our idols be? The lesson at the heart of their stories is an important one: despite our flaws, our dreams can still come true. And we can live happily, although imperfectly, ever after.
THE END
Monday, 1 July 2013
Canada in 14 Facts, Eh?
Today is July 1st. If that date means anything special to you, chances are that you, like me, are from the Great White North and are therefore celebrating Canada Day. According to the almost-but-not-quite reliable folks at Wikipedia, Canada is “a North American country consisting of ten provinces and three territories located in the northern part of the continent.” It then goes on to talk about the Canadian maple syrup black market which, naturally, operates in alliance with the Illuminati. Silly Wikipedia, Trix are for kids! But in all seriousness, Canada Day is a big deal in… well, Canada. Why? Because Canada is one hell of an awesome country and we Canadians know it. That being said, there are a lot of stereotypes about life in Canada and while some may be factual, most are about as legitimate as a mosquito on a goose’s ass (classic Canadian joke!). With this in mind, on this most patriotic of days it seems appropriate for me to defend the reputation of my homeland, so I have decided to shed some light on what Canadian living is really all about. Below I have listed fourteen little-known facts about “the true North strong and free” in the hopes that they will educate foreigners, delight the Canadian masses, and occupy my time until it’s dark enough for fireworks and beer. Read on!
Fact #1: 48% of Canadians still find themselves questioning what to call more than one moose.
Fact #2: “Beaver” is not an effective slang word for someone’s lady parts in Canada. Canadians will automatically assume that you’re talking about the adorable, buck-toothed mammal, and the conversation will swiftly take an awkward turn. For example,
Non-Canadian: “That girl’s skirt is so short, if she bends over we’re totally going to see her beaver!”
Canadian: “But it’s December... Beavers hibernate in the winter!”
Non-Canadian: “....... I don't think we should be friends anymore.”
Fact #3: Every Canadian born in the 90s grew up listening to “Let’s Go to the Mall” by Robin Sparkles.
Fact #4: Got a hankering for some ketchup chips? Maybe a couple of President’s Choice Decadent cookies? How about some Alphagetti or a Coffee Crisp? Well, if you don’t live in Canada you’re shit out of luck; it’s the only place you’ll find those delectable food items on shelves. And although they may be served in other nations now, we all know that poutine and Beavertails originated in the Great White North too.
Fact #5: The ranks of Canadian celebrities include Rachel McAdams, Eugene Levy, Ryan Reynolds, John Candy, Jim Carrey, Keanu Reeves, James Cameron, Will Arnett, Celine Dion and Shania Twain, to name a few. Oh, and Ryan Gosling. Not that that’s a big deal or anything. Hey girl, indeed...
Fact #6: Speaking of famous Canadians, Canada is also home to both Justin Bieber and the band Nickelback. To anyone who has ever wondered why Canadians are so quick to apologize: now you know. Now. You. Know.
Fact #7: Canada is the only country in which milk bags are still commonly used. It is also important to note that “milk bags” is not Canadian slang for breasts.
Fact #8: Canadians do say “eh” quite a bit, but we don’t say “aboot” unless we’re referring to one half of our winter footwear.
Fact #9: Referring to Tim Horton’s by its full name in a conversation with a group of Canadians will result in immediate ostracism. It’s “Timmy’s” or “Tim’s”, ya hoser.
Fact #10: No one actually says “hoser” in Canada other than the infamous Bob and Doug McKenzie, but after saying it in fact number nine I think I might start.
Fact #11: We don’t ride polar bears to school. We would NEVER treat our pets like that.
Fact #12: Canadian beer is notoriously strong. Not notoriously strong: Canadian television.
Fact #13: Contrary to popular belief, Canadians don’t actually put maple syrup on everything. Only French Canadians do that. The rest of us use Frank’s Red Hot Sauce™, available at your local grocery store!
Fact #14: It doesn't snow THAT much in Canada, nor is the temperature constantly below zero. Yes, it gets pretty damn cold in the winter and I may have seen a few people cross-country skiing through downtown Toronto back in January, but I swear it’s nice here most of the time.
So there you have it. Yes, some of the rumors about Canada are true. Okay, a lot of them are true. But does that make our country any less awesome? No. We’re a bunch of beer-swilling, eh-saying, beaver-loving (remember, the mammal…) hosers here in Canada and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Happy Canada Day!
Fact #1: 48% of Canadians still find themselves questioning what to call more than one moose.
Fact #2: “Beaver” is not an effective slang word for someone’s lady parts in Canada. Canadians will automatically assume that you’re talking about the adorable, buck-toothed mammal, and the conversation will swiftly take an awkward turn. For example,
Non-Canadian: “That girl’s skirt is so short, if she bends over we’re totally going to see her beaver!”
Canadian: “But it’s December... Beavers hibernate in the winter!”
Non-Canadian: “....... I don't think we should be friends anymore.”
Fact #3: Every Canadian born in the 90s grew up listening to “Let’s Go to the Mall” by Robin Sparkles.
Fact #4: Got a hankering for some ketchup chips? Maybe a couple of President’s Choice Decadent cookies? How about some Alphagetti or a Coffee Crisp? Well, if you don’t live in Canada you’re shit out of luck; it’s the only place you’ll find those delectable food items on shelves. And although they may be served in other nations now, we all know that poutine and Beavertails originated in the Great White North too.
Fact #5: The ranks of Canadian celebrities include Rachel McAdams, Eugene Levy, Ryan Reynolds, John Candy, Jim Carrey, Keanu Reeves, James Cameron, Will Arnett, Celine Dion and Shania Twain, to name a few. Oh, and Ryan Gosling. Not that that’s a big deal or anything. Hey girl, indeed...
Fact #6: Speaking of famous Canadians, Canada is also home to both Justin Bieber and the band Nickelback. To anyone who has ever wondered why Canadians are so quick to apologize: now you know. Now. You. Know.
Fact #7: Canada is the only country in which milk bags are still commonly used. It is also important to note that “milk bags” is not Canadian slang for breasts.
Fact #8: Canadians do say “eh” quite a bit, but we don’t say “aboot” unless we’re referring to one half of our winter footwear.
Fact #9: Referring to Tim Horton’s by its full name in a conversation with a group of Canadians will result in immediate ostracism. It’s “Timmy’s” or “Tim’s”, ya hoser.
Fact #10: No one actually says “hoser” in Canada other than the infamous Bob and Doug McKenzie, but after saying it in fact number nine I think I might start.
Fact #11: We don’t ride polar bears to school. We would NEVER treat our pets like that.
Fact #12: Canadian beer is notoriously strong. Not notoriously strong: Canadian television.
Fact #13: Contrary to popular belief, Canadians don’t actually put maple syrup on everything. Only French Canadians do that. The rest of us use Frank’s Red Hot Sauce™, available at your local grocery store!
Fact #14: It doesn't snow THAT much in Canada, nor is the temperature constantly below zero. Yes, it gets pretty damn cold in the winter and I may have seen a few people cross-country skiing through downtown Toronto back in January, but I swear it’s nice here most of the time.
So there you have it. Yes, some of the rumors about Canada are true. Okay, a lot of them are true. But does that make our country any less awesome? No. We’re a bunch of beer-swilling, eh-saying, beaver-loving (remember, the mammal…) hosers here in Canada and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Happy Canada Day!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)