Misplaced criticism shows what a sexist idiot your are

Tiger Woods. Mega-celeb-silver-spoon-athlete-commercial-endorsement-filthy-rich-mogul-with-sex-drive-addiction-issues. Cheats on wife, rather flamboyantly. Divorce. Huge settlement. Totally predictable course of events, and I don't really care.

Ah, but then we have Facebook.

So here's what happened. A friend posts fairly neutral, "Tiger pays $750 million in divorce settlement...wow."

Comments start flying in.

Content of comments get my attention. Suggesting she should be killed? Really?
If anyone really thinks that there are not still deep, patriarchal, dominant-culture, oppressive attitudes that keep women (and countless other groups) down in this country, I have more evidence to the contrary (not that there isn't tons and tons documented out there) and these attitudes aren't coming from some of the usual suspects...they are coming from people I went to high school with - a young, sub/urban hip and supposedly enlightened group of Gen Xers - diverse in gender, ethnicity, color, and class.

Holy crap we are screwed. Here's a few:

From a woman: That's why they say "its cheaper to keep her"!!
From a man: You know all your lady friends on facebook are gonna like this lol

From a man: QUITE SURE HE COULD GET HER "ORENTHAL JAMES-ED" FOR ABOUT $75OO FROM SOMEONE IN THE SOUTH BRONX...

Same guy: ...THAT BROAD AIN'T DID SHIT TO BE PUTTIN HER LIPS TOGETHER TO ASK FOR NO F****N $750 MIL!!! GET D FUCKATTA HERE!!!!!!!!!! SHE USED TO BE A NANNY DOG, C'MON SON!!!!

From a woman: ...she should not be allowed to get nearly as much as she is, he got where he is because of him, she didnt help him get that money, poor guy. i understand he cheated but thats insane to have to give her all that money, stingy bitch. lol


Instead of people reacting to this disturbing sum, like, "wow that dude is rich" because he is able to pay this enormous amount as part of a settlement with little trouble, people jump on the chance to ridicule, blame, and judge the female player in all this.
This is sexism at some of its simplest, and some of it is disturbingly pro-violence and victim-blaming. against women (the one guy alludes, tactlessly, to an OJ-scenario!)

Back to the female player - the wife. That he had children with. That entered into a 'deal' with him. He messed up the deal really badly and pretty much made a fool of himself, not to mention the risks he put his wife at with his wandering wang. He pays. Simple. Why should anyone care where she came from, what she did.

It's gross to imagine this scenario with the gender reversed. If Tiger were female, and she, as a top-grossing famous athlete that cheated on her hubby, agreed to pay out to her ex-husband, in a highly publicized scandalous divorce settlement, people would be happy for the husband and call her the bitch, and say it's just, that he deserves every penny.

So why, then, isn't Tiger getting this response? Because he's got a penis. And his behavior is expected and excused, because 'it's what men do'. And even when women are the victims of men's stupid behavior, they get to be called bitches, stingy, and basically worthless.

Awesome.

Provoked

The sitch: The friend I never met recently posted about becoming engaged in a Facebook 'debate' about stay-at-home-moms, (SAHMs), and it seems that it all frustrated her enough to write about it on her blog. Though not every detail applies to me, I liked what she had to say, and pretty much agreed with her. So I commented on her post. I checked the post later on, and one of the subsequent comments really ticked me off. Hugely.


Responding may have sparked a heated debate on my friend's turf, with someone who is probably her friend as well, and would have been rude and inappropriate. So I didn't take the bait - but man, it was bugging me. I soon realized, however, that I can completely shred this comment apart here on my own plot of turf, and feel much, much better. I've been provoked, gentle readers, and I'm going for the jugular.


The disclaimer: I aim to criticize the comment and the attitude it represents, not the commenter herself. I don't know her personally and I suspect we have a mutual friend. I don't know this person's life, her politics, or really, anything about her. What I do know, however, is that the attitude that appears to be the subtext of the comment is incredibly classist, sexist, with a river of judgment flowing right through it. Regardless of how it was possibly meant, it spitefully calls into question the relationship that working mothers and fathers have with their children, and I cannot let it go, because as a view popular with some SAHMs, it needs to be challenged.

I am inspired by the way Kate Harding & friends dissect through the disgusting attitudes they retrieve allover the media. I'm following their lead and will quote, comment, quote, comment, and I can only hope to present a shred of the wit and brilliance they do.

And now, the full comment of honor:


"Great posting. I don’t read this things often because of time constraints, however, it is such a shame that women fight about this at all. I have done both in my life as a professional and a mother. For me, staying home with my kids is better because I feel that they are only young once, and I don’t want to miss out on ANYTHING! I think it’s great to have a balance though and I love part-time work! Then we can somehow make it all work. What I think is horrible is women that have babies just because..and then have day care or a nanny raise them. Whatever; to each her own.
Stay at home Moms are incredible and so self-sacrificing. I am surely on the other side of your comments; Much rather be with my kids than not. Good for you for standing by your convictions"


"I don’t read this things often because of time
constraints, however, it is such a shame that women fight about this at all."

It is a shame, indeed. What's also interesting, however, is the rest of the post is literally picking that very fight...even a bit of a sucker punch, really. Let's read on:

"I have done both in my life as a professional and a mother."

This is just grammatically confusing, but I think the message is one of two possibilities: a) she was a professional and a mother, but not at the same time, or b) she has been a working mother and a stay at home mother. It would be nice to know which one is correct because the latter might give her position slightly more weight. Slightly.

For me, staying home with my kids is better because I feel
that they are only young once, and I don’t want to miss out on ANYTHING! I think it’s great to have a balance though and I
love part-time work!"

Um, I hate to get all 'logical' here, but if part-time work is involved, then something will undoubtedly go unseen and unappreciated by mom -but really, that is not my biggest gripe here. If you are unsure as to what it might be, I'll just lift it out for emphasis:

"...they are only young once, and I don't want to miss
out on ANYTHING!"

Whoa, wait - what did you just say?? They're only young once?! Oh, crap! I must have forgotten to note that in my planner, because I'm such a busy career woman. Aw, shucks. Well, actually, I kinda do want to miss out on most stuff because my kids are just a nuisance to me and make me late for work, and clearly, I need my salary to buy more diamonds.
Yes, that's right. Working mothers (and fathers as well) all sign up for work over their kids because they don't realize and/or care that the kids grow up, and they don't care much about missing shit. We're a heartless, greedy bunch.
But wait! If SAHMs don't want to miss ANYTHING, they must be planning to home school as well, because (and here's all that damn LOGIC again) that's the only way you can almost not miss ANYTHING before they grow up. Or am I not aware of the magical age when it's suddenly ok to have someone be involved in raising your kid? Maybe it's not the magical age, but the magical number...public school is free. Hmm.

But, let's move on:

"What I think is horrible is women that have babies
just because..and then have day care or a nanny raise them. Whatever; to each her own."

I had a baby just because: a) I wanted to and b) my husband wanted to and c) we were ready to love a child, and of course, lest I forget, d) we wanted to make sure the daycare industry didn't crumble. Dammit! Got me again! I only wanted to have babies Just Because, and figured I'd have someone else raise them so I can keep a roof over our buy diamonds. I often calculate how many more diamonds and diamond encrusted clutch purses I could have purchased with the salary I lost during my maternity leave. Because, you know, my income is earmarked solely for the small luxuries in life.

"Stay at home Moms are incredible and so self-sacrificing. I am surely on the other side of your comments; Much rather be with my kids than not"

Sheesh, I'm glad somebody out there is self-sacrificing, cause we sure the hell are too busy writing checks to daycare and hobnobbing in our glamorous professional circles to even think about how to creatively increase our kid's protein intake and support his amazing verbal and emotional skills, all while working full time and getting dinner on the table by 6pm and playing, talking, and reading with him every single night and listening for the dryer buzzer to go off so we can get tomorrow's clothes folded before we have to leave for work before 7am so we can save for college start looking into buying loose emeralds as well.

I mean, the truth is, we'd definitely rather not be with our son...then we'd be much more productive, all around.

~

OK, no more sarcasm. Or was that not enough? I want to share my story. You may (or may not) remember that I hit a point during Sam's infancy where I thought I wanted to be a SAHM. I had a hell of a time with PPD and nursing, never slept, and the idea of working ever again seemed like a joke. Nevertheless, I had been incredibly fortunate to arrange a maternity leave that was nearly triple the average, and later arranged to be half-time for another year. Again, fortunate that we have good, steady jobs with good benefits and some flexibility, and fortunate that we even could swing things with only half my salary coming in.

Our situation was nothing like the reality out there for working parents. And, because I'm not (strive not to be - it's lifelong work) classist, I realize this, and think about it. A lot.

While I don't have regrets, and still feel that the extra time was beneficial in every way to my son, shit got tight. We were stretched thin, even with my husband having a second job at the time, and by the year's end, it was becoming stressful, and that's not good for anyone. Besides that, I admit that some days with my son were more stressful than any job I'd ever had. Of course we were active, and I did all the developmental things, and we had a great time, of course we did, but at the end of the day, I just wanted to hand him over to my husband, for at least a couple of hours.

Luckily, I was able to go back full-time (or is it luck? You see, I have most of the big class privileges working for me - I'm well educated, white, married, able bodied, over 30 but under 50, and considered moderately attractive - I win. It sucks. But, it's how it is.) I did have fears about going back full time: would my son's development regress? would our relationship weaken? would he not feel as loved and nurtured by me?

It has been nearly a year since I've been back full time, and none of my fears have come true. In fact, my son is just flourishing at pre-school, and our time together at home, in the evenings is totally focused on him. We're all happier and less stressed, and I feel like I have more capacity for love and nurturing than I had when we were home.

If you want to be home with your kids and you're PRIVILEGED enough to be able to do what you want for yourself and your kids, then that's wonderful. Understand, appreciate, and don't underestimate your privilege.

If you want to work 'just because' you want to, but you don't need to, then the world should know that you adore, sacrifice for, and love your children just as much as any mother or father.

If you want to be home with your kids, but you aren't privileged enough to do so, then the world should know that you adore, sacrifice for, and love your children just as much as any mother or father.

If you need to work to support your family, and you want to work as well, then the world should know that you adore, sacrifice for, and love your children just as much as any mother or father.

Surely, there are exceptions, and the world can undoubtedly be an evil place, but speaking from my experience, my knowledge base, and my ever-expanding heart, working mothers and fathers are overwhelmingly self-sacrificing, would rather be with their children and they don't want to miss anything. We all make it work.

Suck it.

Yogurt is sexist.

What is it about women and yogurt, or more specifically, yogurt commercials targeted at women?

Have you noticed that most of these TV ads feature young-ish, attractive women eating yogurt with such giddy, childish joy, you'd think they were toddlers spooning ice cream. Watch the next one you see carefully - it's nauseating.

If they're not laughing and dancing about how wonderful their yogurt-filled life is, or talking about how yogurt is just every bit as as good as cheesecake, or subtly reminding you that pooping regularly is hot:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CxASvaM7kHQ
--My fave part is the woman 'tiger' pawing at the yogurt.


Then they are having a moronic conversation comparing yogurt to life events typically associated with women. Surely you remember this one:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Emp_CtPy1Gw
--And who eats yogurt after a wedding reception?

Currently the worst one of all, this woman downs a supposedly decadent (but not fattening!) Dannon Light yogurt in a supermarket and then gives a grossly, sexually 'naughty' look. Sorry, but this woman makes me want to call Chris Hansen, not buy yogurt:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dftDBFwY2Lk

I found lots of other women that are annoyed by this as well. Here's a hilarious little video to sum it all up, and she makes a similar point about the wedding:

http://current.com/items/88941392_sarah-haskins-in-target-women-yogurt-edition.htm

The second most targeted group seems to be kids. Are there any yogurts targeted to men? I don't know of any. Just women and children. I think there's an untapped market of constipated, bloated men out there looking to indulge in a guilt-free treat.

Let's come up with some awesome manly names for yogurt marketed to men...post away.

Of mice and men and women

Tonight I'm planting some bait, but not setting the traps. I must let it believe that the aromatic little clump of peanut butter is free, safe, and totally up for grabs. According to the articles found during my recent (frantic) Internet searches, you don't want to have a trap shy mouse, so you let it live the good life for a day or two, leading it to think the traps are just interesting serving pieces.

The weekend before Christmas, I lay in bed and watched a tiny field mouse that had been in our bedroom wall gradually scrape its way out from a small gap under the door jamb. Of course I was horrified, but just like passing a car accident, you have to stare. The day before it squeezed itself out, I'd naively set a trap right next to the gap, confident that when Mouse eventually popped out, it would walk directly into the trap. This was not to be. Mouse slid out, and I watched, paralyzed, as it trotted right past the damned trap and into the dark hallway. I was expecting Tim to be home from work any minute, so I called his cell and screamed in a whisper, "It's innnn the houuuussssssse!"

As he came up the stairs, I directed him to shut Sam's door and get busy finding this evil intruder. We saw it dart through the shadows a couple of times, then go into the bathroom. Tim put the trap in the bathroom with him and shut the door. Obviously I could not fall asleep knowing Mouse was alive and kickin it mousy-style in the bathroom. Would he be trapped by morning or would he be waiting to attack me in the shower and eat my face off? A little while later, I thought I heard the trap, and Tim said (with a hint of condescension?), "Do you want me to go check?" Um. Well, let's see... if you care at all for my welfare and mental health, and protecting the mother of your child from face-eating vermin, you will get up and go check. Duh.

Tim was in the bathroom for a while. After hearing two flushes and contemplating if I should get the broom and swoop in for a hysterical rescue, he finally came back to bed. Apparently, Mouse was in the tub, cornered. Tim doused him with shampoo (the good stuff, not the Suave--sigh) and Mouse started to run around the tub. He quickly got sudsy and began sneezing. Have you ever heard a mouse sneeze? Tim threw a hand towel over him and flushed him. The second flush was just a pee. I questioned both the sanity and possible sanitation laws broken in flushing a mouse down the toilet, but he assured me that it was cool. Ew.

A few days passed and things were quiet. Last night we heard some distant scratching somewhere in the walls, but nothing nearby or alarming. I should tell you that while I have realized that mice are a normal part of life, that they get into every house eventually, both old and new, and that they are not generally a huge problem if kept under control and out of the food and living areas, I am still revolted by them and struggle with the thought that I might be a scumbag-trashy-dirty person with vermin in her house. Of course if a friend had the occasional winter time mouse problem I would never think that of them- we are our own worst critics. I think it's in part due to my blissfully unaware childhood. We either never had mice, or my parents never discussed them with me. I do remember my mom once saw a mouse near the door when we lived in Italy, and she had my grandmother chase it out the door and off the balcony. Splat! Bottom line is that until we moved into this house, my mouse credentials were rather thin.

Despite the relative quiet, I was having trouble falling asleep last night. Around midnight, I decided to try some warm milk (and one Benadryl, for sport). Went downstairs, and as I'm heading into the kitchen I saw an unmistakable silhouette scurry across the dining room floor and into the kitchen. I was barefoot. BAREFOOT. I'm never barefoot! I didn't scream, but my gasp was so sharp that it made me cough. I ran back upstairs and woke Tim. This was a disaster of enormous proportion. We both went back down and looked around. Didn't see anything. We laid a couple of glue traps and went to bed. I eventually fell asleep, comforted by the thought of getting a cat.

This morning there was nothing in the traps. Tim had already started using poison in the basement and repellents outside; he feels this particular mouse getting inside is a fluke and not a sign of infestation--but I'm not yet convinced. We went off to work. I wasn't very productive, and spent a good chunk of my morning worrying and chatting. I talked to coworkers and friends about it, and to my relief, everyone has a mouse story. And a bat story. And a chipmunk story. It does help me feel better - but I still want them all dead-diggidy-dead.

One of my coworkers, Cheryl, volunteers for the local humane society in her spare time and is very knowledgeable about animals, so I talked to her about a cat. I generally don't love cats, but last night I'd decided that I could learn to love one that keeps my house mouse free - in my opinion, the only way to have a symbiotic relationship with the Feline Freaks. I'm glad I asked her because now I know I don't want a cat to tackle this problem: If I did get lucky and adopted an effective predatory cat, it may actually EAT the mice it kills or eat PARTS of them! What?? Seriously?! I think my stomach virus just returned. And I thought cats eating mice was just Tom & Jerry fodder! Cheryl advised me that if I couldn't handle finding these 'presents' I should reconsider the cat solution...Yea, not only would I not be able to handle such gifts, but I would likely not stop screaming until they came to take me away. Thanks for preventing a tragedy, Cheryl!

She recommended traps - the old fashioned simple spring kind that kill instantly, Victor brand. Tim had looked at those, but ended up with some glue traps instead. She curled her nose and said she didn't like glue traps because it's awful to see the mouse stuck on the pad, and if you don't kill it yourself before you dispose of it, it dies from stress and starvation. That sounds fabulously appropriate to me. Don't mess with me, little f!&*!rs.

So I read up on the best ways to use traps. A common mistake is to not put out enough, even if just for one mouse. I felt prepared as I left work and headed straight to WalMart (I know, I know, but seriously, mice deserve only the best). I wanted to get some containers to protect my food items as well.

The Victor traps come four to a package for $1.87. I bought 48 traps. Best to be prepared. I also picked up some steel wool to close up any holes we might find.

While I was dumping the traps into my cart, two women, total strangers, approached me separately with advice. This was also a comfort. One woman had a brand new house with mice. She nodded approvingly at my containers and told me that she made her husband dispose of the bodies. The other complained about another brand of traps, how she made her brother check the traps, and wished me luck. Earlier, on the phone, my mother admitted that about a year ago, my father saw a mouse in the basement and she was horrified to find out that he didn't address it immediately. Women bonding over mice. And men. Chivalry may be long gone, but I still want Tim to protect me from mice. Do you, Timothy, vow to love, cherish and honor her, and also beat the veritable hell out of any mice near her, now and forever, until death do you part?

When I got home, I checked the glue traps again and found nothing. I spent the afternoon thoroughly checking my kitchen and food for evidence of mice, and thankfully, everything looks fine. My cupboards appear to be intact, with no apparent intrusions. I have yet to find droppings anywhere in the house, actually. As a precaution, I put grains, cereals, flours, and open packages of crackers and cookies into the canisters. Here is my awesome arsenal of traps and the containers I picked up for my cupboards:

It was a good project, besides its original justification: I cleaned everything out, wiped down, and reorganized. The contents of my cabinets are pretty and neat, like it's all ready for 2009 or something. Knowing that our food is safe is additional peace of mind until this uh, event, seems more controlled. I've also been assured that mice don't eat people's faces off, unless of course they are really angry or high on PCP.

I believe I might be starting to overcome the fear and turning it into determined rage. Rambo style. I might put on some war paint and a bandanna before I set out the bait. But you know Tim will follow up with the rest.