Wednesday, August 28, 2013

How To Convince Radical Fauxminists This Is All. Their. Damn. Fault.

Originally, I set out to write a "How to never be with a guy who would try to manipulate you into having an abortion" counter-piece to this trash, but turns out typing "Don't date asshole scum" does not a full blog post make. So instead, I've decided to write yet another open letter to all the radical fauxminists of the world who have no freakin' excuse to be outraged by this douchebag's article, because it was soooooo the next logical step in this idiotic movement of theirs. Wish me luck, here goes...



Dear Gloria Steinem and Co.,

You finally did it, sisters. You're finally there. Where you ask? Well let me tell you, you're all finally equal suckasses in the town of suckassville, where there might be barf all over the floor, but at least the gumball machine's stocked full of Plan B! So, party on, right?!

See, forty years ago you "won" us the right to choose life or death for our offsprings, and now the inevitable has happened- frat boys with the emotional depth of a clogged urinal have managed to duplicate their one pathetic brain cell, and wise up just enough to demand their own dose of equality by asking for the right choose as well. And I mean, can we really blame them? They did the same deed, sowed the same seed, so why shouldn't they get a say? What, like when you kill your children it's all cute and delicate and shiz, but when they want the very same thing it suddenly becomes a mean, manly, lumberjacky abortion? Shooo gurl, that's sexist. And you know better. 

Thing is, they're asking for the exact same thing you are... freedom from responsibility, at all costs. They're not ready to shoulder the burden of parenthood. They're equally as irresponsible as you, and maybe they can't afford a kid right now either, or just want to finish school first, or have prom coming up and sitters be expensive, yo. So why are you so outraged when one of them writes something like "How to convince a girl to get an abortion?" When what you really should be upset about is the fact that he feels the need to manipulate you into doing so. He shouldn't have to stoop to that level just because he wants junior ripped limb from limb. All he should have to do is ask, which is why I am going to propose the following....

If you're really all for equality like you claim to be, than I think the baby batter donor of that little bun in your oven should get just as much say as you do in whether or not your child gets to live or die.

Granted, we must acknowledge this fetus fiesta is happening in your body, and I do think that counts for something. Because of that, I propose that you get ultimate veto power, BUT it will come at a cost. Here's what I'm spitballing... 

If he says abort and you say no, he's off the hook when it comes to all future child support payments and parenting responsibilities. That's only fair, and like equality or something, right? I mean, doesn't that just make your feminist parts tingle with liberation?! You had your shot, you chose not to abort, now he gets his chance to cut all parental ties as well.

Second scenario, if you want to abort and he does not, you must payout damages for his emotional distress. I looked it up and the internet said it's actually a pretty easy thing to prove. Here's all he needs to do to win big bucks:

  • You must have experienced severe emotional distress. (You're killin' his kid, so yeah, duh.)
  • The defendant's conduct has to be outrageous or extreme. The conduct must include more than threats, insults, indignities and annoyances. However, the actions do not have to include any physical harm. (Threatening to kill his bambino, THEN actually doing it through physical harm to said bambino. Cha-ching!)
  • You must prove the defendant's act was reckless or intentional. For example, the defendant harassed you or intentionally told you of a family member's death that wasn't true. (But in this case the family member, his son or daughter, will actually die, so they'll probably add a few extra zeros for that one too.)
  • The defendant's actions must actually be the cause of your emotional distress. (And obviously they are. He sees his future hopes and dreams in your womb fruit, and you're about to have it obliterated.)

See? Easy-peasy to prove, especially since you won't contest because, feminism. All that money you're gonna save on pampers you can just put straight towards the payout. (Wo)Man, I bet you're loving equality so hard right now. And there it is at its finest. At least as fine as anything can be in the suckass town of suckassville where rather than striving to achieve unique greatness in our own genders, everyone would rather settle for the most base level of equality.

So sayonara suckassers.

Signed,

A real feminist who sees that going from an "incubator" to a "semen receptacle" is no progress at all.

And that's all we're gonna say about that...


"I kept thinking Miley reminded me of all the little girls I have come into contact with through years of social service who have been sexually molested. Little girls who made me completely horrified, saddened and creeped out in the way they constantly tried to cross inappropriate physical contact lines with everyone around them, because they have been taught that is what is expected of them- that it pleases adults. 
Miley seems to me like a child molested 
by the entire culture."

~Christina Sanantonio


Thursday, August 22, 2013

She sees you, Daddy...



She always thought Mommy was the prettiest woman in the world, as they’d lie on the bed basking in the afternoon sun pouring through the window, she fit so perfectly snug against Mommy’s curves. Mommy turned on her side one time and her baggy shirt revealed scars on her hips and stomach. She gently traced them with her fingers and quietly asked, “What are these Mommy?” After a moment Mommy replied, “Those are my warrior scars, baby… They show the world that I’ve done one of the toughest things a woman can do, and lived to tell about it. I brought forth life.” She wanted to be just like Mommy… a warrior too.

She was seven when that all changed though, as your eyes fixated on the woman who had just walked into the restaurant. Mommy was too busy wiping mashed potatoes off baby brother’s hands to notice, but she saw you. She watched as your eyes follow the woman all the way to her seat, and she noticed how this woman’s beauty had captivated you. She studied the woman carefully, noticing the sexy way she dressed even though she didn’t know the word to describe it at the time. And in that moment she wanted to be just like her. That woman may not be a warrior, but she had your full, undivided attention.

After dinner you came back home and began to shuffle through the monotony… baths, teeth, PJ’s, and bed. After you tucked her in, she laid awake in her room thinking about the beautiful woman… the way she walked, the way she dressed, the way she did her hair. She thought about the woman for quite some time when suddenly she heard you and Mommy arguing down stairs. “What do you mean it’s overdue… I thought we just paid it!” Mommy’s voice was too quiet to hear, but she could tell Mommy was crying. She heard you yell, “Well, maybe you should get a job already?” And with that she was very confused. Mommy was always telling people she had the best job in the world, taking care of her and little brother… but maybe you didn’t think so. Maybe you think there’s something better than being a warrior. She wondered if maybe being beautiful like the woman was better...

She tossed and turned until finally the scary shadows in the corner got the best of her. She slowly snuck out into the dimly lit hall and went towards the glow coming from your study. She was drawn to you like a moth to a flame. She stood in the threshold a moment, gathering the courage to let you know she was out of bed, then gently pressed the door open, making a creak and prompting you to immediately close your browser window. But it was too late. She had already seen what you were looking at… another beautiful woman with long flowing hair just like the one from the restaurant earlier, again moving sensually before your eyes. She turned her tiny face up at you and hesitantly asked, “Daddy, do you think I’m pretty?” to which immediately you replied, “Absolutely, baby… just like your mommy.”

And in that moment she knew, she didn’t want to grow up to be a warrior like Mommy, she wanted to be beautiful and sexy like the women she saw you adore.

Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Let's Talk About Sex (without having a) Babe-y...


Enjoy that ear worm, suckers!
BC. Birth control. The Pill. My three older sisters all took it, the promiscuous girls in high school took it and even the virgins took it for their cramps and acne.
…And then there were those who didn’t take it, the Catholics. With their 15 passenger vans and Costco cards, Catholics seemed to be the only people I knew who weren’t on “The Pill.” I mean it was obvious that they were over zealous religious freaks, right? Who in their right mind would subject themselves to a van-load of screaming children when all you had to do to prevent it was pop a few pills?
My plan was always to hop on oral birth control as soon as I got married. It made perfect sense. I was an aspiring actress, living in Hollywood and no way was I ready for a snot-nosed kid to steal my limelight.
Then it happened… My husband (fiancĂ© at the time) got involved in the pro-life movement. He began to meet people who opposed oral contraceptives, some of whom weren’t even Catholic! Now, if you know anything about my husband, you would know he loves his “research” (most people would call it Google-ing). Night after night, book after book, article after article he built his case until it was complete. Or so he thought. I was stubborn, there was no way he was going to rip apart my dreams because of a couple of Google searches. Sure his facts were accurate and yes I knew my choice may be selfish, but everyone else was doing it. Things didn’t click until a big blow out in the car when he yelled at me: “We can’t call ourselves pro-life if we use birth control!”
Hold tight, I know I am losing you, please hear me out. We aren’t crazy and we aren’t Catholic, we just saw the facts and realized we knew too much.
Welcome to oral contraceptives for dummies as explained to me:
Hormonal birth control works one of the three ways, as listed below. It attempts to do #1 every time and #2 and #3 serve as a back up in case one or the other fails. 1.) Attempts to prevent the woman from ovulating. 2.) Thickens the cervical mucus in an attempt to prevent sperm from getting to the ovary. 3.) Prevents a fertilized egg from attaching to the uterine wall by thinning the lining. This ends the life of the newly fertilized egg.
#3 is what makes the pill an abortifactant (anything that causes abortion). It kills the newly formed life. I'm sure you are asking yourself "how often could #3 really happen?" Well, we have all heard or met someone who got pregnant while on the pill right? That means #1, #2 and #3 all failed. There is no accurate percentage of how often #3 takes place, but the fact of the matter is it happens and it is NOT beyond your control.
Now, if I am prolife and truly believe life begins at conception how could I, with clear conscious, take birth control?
I knew too much, the choice was obvious. Now came the time for me to confront those 3 scary letters, NFP. Every woman I met who did Natural Family Planning was either newlywed and pregnant or had 4 kids or more. With those three letters I saw my acting career swirl round and round as it went down the toilet.
I didn’t trust it. Neither did my family, in fact they thought I was crazy. I remember my brother-in-law made a joke talking to my 1 year old niece just after our wedding: “Do you see Auntie Dan and Uncle Josef? They are going to have a little cousin for you to play with in nine months. ”
I could just see it nine months later, I would be with a baby in my arms and my brother-in-law saying, “I told you so.”
I had no choice though, I knew what I knew now and I began to prepare myself for NFP. I bought books and iPhone apps, but still felt lost and unprepared. The word “charting” made me feel like I was back in high school and gave me the same stomach-turning feeling “chores” did back in the 4th grade.
This was supposed to be a glorious moment in my life, I was going to be having sex for the first time in my 24 years on this planet… but it now came with a chart telling me if it was OK, and my temperature was just right and all the planets were perfectly aligned.
I thought waiting was the hard part? I mean it’s 2013 why are we still charting?
It was now my turn to do some “research” and that meant Facebook messaging every Catholic woman I knew. Well, two women to be exact. The first told me about charting and the other introduced me to a fancy new device called: Lady-Comp.
According to her, the Lady-Comp is a small electronic charting device with a built in thermometer. She explained that she had been using it for three years and it was 100% accurate for her. She also made sure to note that it was a bit pricey, but worth every penny.
My husband and I are what you would categorize as “cheap bastards.” So of course I had to Google it, like we do with anything worth over $3 in value. Plenty of info popped up. I found some great tutorial videos and saw that it had 4 ½ stars from 62 reviews on Amazon, but that’s not what sold me. I was sold when I saw that a German company made it in Germany.
Think about it, BMW’s are made in Germany, this thing had to be legit! But I didn’t exactly hit the gas when I saw the $500 price tag. So I got my calculator out and realized that most women spend between $2,000-4,000 on a ten-year supply of birth control. The Lady-Comp was guaranteed to last at least ten years, though I suspect it will last even longer.
Three months before our wedding my husband and I decided to pool the cash we had and buy a Lady-Comp. I was like a kid on Christmas morning when it came in the mail. It is a sleek device with a small display.
I began to use it immediately and found that it only took 30 seconds of my day. It has a built in alarm that reminds me to take my temperature. After doing so it flashes either a red, yellow or green light. Green indicates “go for it” you aren’t fertile, yellow means it’s not sure, pump the breaks and red means “stop” you’re prime for a baby. Needless to say my husband often finds himself singing the song “Green light” by John Legend (we swear that song was written about the Lady-Comp).
Statistically, Lady-comp is more effective than oral contraception at 99.3% accuracy. It seems odd to me that in a day and age where you feed organic pet food to your dog, you would shove synthetic hormones down your throat every morning.
After a while I began to notice a pride that came with knowing about my cycle. I know more about my body than my Crossfit, vegan friends and it is kinda sexy. 
It has now been 13 months of doing what newlyweds do, without a hiccup. There are times when we have to wait as many as 12 days before we get a green light, but it has taught us the responsibility that comes with sex-- even for a married couple. The Lady-comp has been amazing for us, so much so that I feel the need to share it with the world. Any time we have guests over, or go out to dinner with friends I find myself going on and on about my Lady-Comp. My husband had to stop me when I did it to his single, male, 27 year old friend just the other night.
Now I leave it to you. Whether you hadn’t put too much thought into BC, or just realized straight up NFP wasn’t your thing, I hope that the Lady-Comp proves a viable option.
For more info on this nifty little device, click here http://www.raxmedical.com/
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Get a room!
Post by Josef and Danielle Lipp... who weren't paid one single red cent by Lady-comp for this glowing endorsement, but probably should've been.