feminist blogs

Announcement: Tomorrow is the big day for some very exciting changes here at Pandagon. Unfortunately to make those changes, Pam, Jedmunds and I have to refrain from updating the blog until tomorrow evening so our webmistress/dominatrix/swifter-picker-upper can put everything together. We won't be going dark, but if you leave comments from here until we fire the blog back up, they probably won't be surviving the transistion.

I'm hoping everyone likes the changes as much as everyone here in the dark cavern inside a volcano we call the Pandagon Home Offices do.

In the meantime, the Brooks-bashing continues and boy howdy, this shit is funny. I almost feel sorry for John Tierney. His woman-bashing really wasn't nearly up to snuff like Brooks'. He should consider just digging old reactionary pamphlets, changing the wording slightly and calling it a day as well.

Alright, my camera woes are over, after finding out there's a device that lets you download off the card directly so you don't have to mess with trying to get the pictures off the camera. So here's my version of the tradition of having an open house on New Year's Day--a virtual open house! I love this time of year, since my week off work means I have a chance to clean and reorganize everything. I rearranged a lot of my art and installed some shelves in the Mouse Pad. I even vaccumed my balcony, a habit for which I get teased but dammit, it works. So have at it. And here's a bonus picture--last vanity shot of 2005 as I was heading out the door to a party.

In other news, Twisty's got a post on a study showing that in Britain at least, men have twice as much "me" time as women do. I have issues with the methodology, though, because I'm guessing that they forgot to include sacrifices such as lifting your feet so someone can vaccum under them in the "work" category.

Evening, ladies and gents! One more post before I head out the door and yes, actually go to a New Year's Eve party. Hard as it may be to believe, it's now six years since Armageddon didn't happen, which was a crushing disappointment for Wingnutteria from coast to coast, from the militia men who were denied the chance to hole up in the cabins with guns and supplies and laugh at people who didn't prepare to fundies who didn't get raptured to heaven where they could look down and laught at those of us who didn't make the cut. What happens to a wingnut deferred? Well, apparently they get a lunatic elected to office with hopes he'll run this country to the ground.

S.Z. is closing out the year with votes for the Ultimate Wingnut. Go check it out.

Big changes coming for Pandagon in 2006. I have to get going or I'd elaborate, but let me say for now that a) don't worry, the line-up of me, Pam and Jedmunds will stay the same and b) I think everyone will love it. Nothing to worry about, good things ahead. For this site, anyway, if not for the country.

Alright, I was tagged by coturnix and everyone else is doing it, so here goes. I'll do the four/seven meme things that are flying around. It's slow traffic time, so why not do a bunch of personal shit? And this works, since the personal blogging I really want to do will have to wait until I get a decent shot of my new tattoo. Seven first, since I got tagged. (Here's my old one for reference.)

Seven Things To Do Before I Die
1. Write that frigging tattoo post
2. Conclusively determine if Bush is stupid or brilliant
3. Conclusively determine if season 7 of "Buffy" was stupid or brilliant
4. Win a game of Texas Hold 'Em
5. Hook up my new stereo (this is a goal to be accomplished by tomorrow night, which is hopefully before I die)
6. Satisfy my promise to show boobies for winning the Koufax last year without actually posting a photograph of me naked
7. Yep, still wanting to get more creative in the kitchen

Seven Things I Cannot Do
1. Listen to really crappy music without smarting off at the idiot who put it on
2. Chew tobacco, not that I'd want to
3. Find the time for all the movies I want to see
4. Speak a second language
5. Play cool when something really intrigues/excites me
6. Stop blaming the patriarchy
7. Drop the vanity (for which I blame the patriarchy)

Seven Things That Attract Me to…Blogging
1. Attention, like everyone else
2. Place to vent, which is a relief like popping a huge pimple
3. Conversation/debate
4. The great humor
5. The chance to accomplish something fun while sitting on my ass
6. Meeting neat people
7. Cat pictures

Seven Things I Say Most Often
Same as last time.

Seven Books That I Love
1. Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov
2. The Tin Drum by Gunther Grass (stealing this off jedmunds)
3. The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood
4. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen
5. All the Bertie and Jeeves stories by P.G. Wodehouse
6. The House of Mirth by Edith Wharton
7. Jude the Obscure by Thomas Hardy

Seven Movies That I Watch Over and Over Again
1. Purple Rain, but I just fast forward to the concert scenes
2. Do "Buffy" DVDs count?
3. I'm going to abandon this one because I suck at it

Seven Songs I Play Over and Over Again:
1. "Bonzo Goes to Bitburg" by the Ramones, because it's purty and I relate overmuch
2. "Under Pressure" by Queen and Bowie--scoff away, motherfuckers. I love Freddie Mercury's vocals on this.
3. "Divorce Song" by Liz Phair, but I think I'm getting over that phase.
4. "Be My Baby" by the Ronettes. See above for insight on my enthusiasm control problems.
5. "You're Gonna Miss Me" by the 13th Floor Elevators--no reason, really, just like it.
6. "Jolene" by Dolly Parton. Still trying after all these years to figure out what Jolene's answer is.
7. "Piece of My Heart", the Erma Franklin version, which kicks Janis Joplin's ass.

Now for the fours one:

Four jobs you've had in your life: University admissions staff, waitress, teller manager, sales clerk

Four movies you could watch over and over: I just can't care enough to think of an answer

Four places you've lived: El Paso, TX; Alpine, TX; Austin, TX; Williamsburg, VA for a couple of months

Four TV shows you love to watch: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Arrested Development, Sex and the City, Desperate Housewives

Four places you've been on vacation: England, the Bahamas, California, Florida

Four websites you visit daily: SNOOZE

Four of your favorite foods: Breakfast tacos, enchiladas, pastas of all sorts, cheese.

Four places you'd rather be: Massage table, Ramones' show, in a throne giving orders, in my apartment in the near future when I have my shit done

Four albums you can't live without: The Ramones new box set, This Year's Model by Elvis Costello, This Island by Le Tigre, Fresh Fruit for Rotting Vegetables by the Dead Kennedys.

I guess I belong now. Yea!

It's just not the holiday season without a trip to the ER, is it? My plan for this week off from work was to take some time to reorganize stuff, mostly around the apartment. And I was doing a bang-up job today, if I do say so myself--I had a nice little shopping list for tomorrow, I had put the new feather bed mattress topper on my bed, hung up the corny new nekkid girl embroidery I'd gotten for Christmas, had put various other little Christmas presents away and had all the new kitchen stuff my mom bought me soaking away in soapy water to get all the labels off. Naturally, fate had to intervene and as I was washing one of my brand new kitchen knives, it slipped out of my hand and managed to flip through the air, landing blade down on top of the knuckle on my pointer finger on my left hand.

Let us all be grateful that I managed against all odds not to spill any blood on the carpet in my mad dash to the bathroom. Initially I thought that this was no big deal--it didn't seem to hurt at all--but 4 hours and god only knows how many cotton balls taped onto my finger with Neosporin and iodine later, I realized that it wasn't a dull pain any longer but in fact if I accidentally bent my finger at all, it was a sharp, alarming pain. Time to bite the bullet and face up to the holiday crowd at the ER.

The good news is I live within walking distance of the hospital, so walk I did. Two hours and mmph dollars later, I now have some kind of weird skin glue holding this cut shut, my left pointer finger in a splint so I can't accidentally bend it and cause me to curse loudly and scare small children, and a prescription for pain meds that are probably a lot stronger than need really dictates. Turns out it's a lot harder to accomplish a lot of minor tasks than you'd think with one finger on your non-dominant hand out of commission. Typing is something I'm getting the hang of, but my plan of action tomorrow involved a screwdriver and some speaker wire. I'm hoping I can get that out of the way without another stroll over to ER.

The good news is that my cats think the feather-stuffed mattress topper is the best invention ever. Thanks, Mom!

I'm afraid that I've done this discussion topic before but I have to wade into the shopping arena and may not emerge for awhile, so I'll throw in some pictures of the 18 panda cubs born this year.

So, I'm driving back to West Texas tomorrow with my sister, two cats, two dogs and my incessant and irritating need to control the music.

While the drive is easily the most anxiety-provoking activity planned in my future, I also have family stuff to worry about. See, while I promised my mom I wouldn't use this phrase, I would (jokingly!) call myself a bit of the black sheep of the family. Topics of conversation that I worry about: Why I had to get another tattoo, my break-up with my ex-boyfriend, whether I am seeing anyone new, and that website of mine. The last one is a point of particular anxiety.

See, my family is about as "average Republican" as you can get. Holidays often consist of women bustling around and working while men sit around in the living talking about how liberals and feminists are ruining this country in tones that make it sound in the next room like they are saying "harumph harumph". They know my politics and it used to be enough to sort of smile wanly while they condescendingly implies that I would have no choice but to grow up (read: marry a redneck Republican) and thereby become a Republican. Now, for obvious reasons, that particular coping mechanism for handling the errant female doesn't work so well anymore. I love my family to death, and I hate to disappoint them, but really I'd rather slit my wrists that pretend I support what I know damn well to be an especially intellectually bankrupt form of evil known as modern American conservatism. Especially if I was doing it for the reason a lot of people do--if you don't give in, you are a grade A weirdo and have to flee to cities where you have almost no family at all just to get peace of mind in your day to day activities.

So, Pandagonians, I offer another discussion topic, since those are fun during the holidays Christmas season.* Are you the errant non-conservative in your family? How do they deal with you? How do you deal with them?

*I guess to start with, don't say "holidays", even if you mean it innocently, or the Bill O'Reilly fans will flip the fuck out.

The nominations are open for the Only Blog Awards That Really Matter--the Koufaxes. Last year, both Jesse and I won, so you know this is the real deal, y'all. And they are still badgering me about a promise made, well, in haste.

Earlier, I promised that if I win, I will make a massive ass out myself, with drunken speechifying and boobies. I stand by that promise, even as I realize that I may be closer to winning than I initially thought.

To be honest, I never thought I'd win. I was, after all, against some heavyweights. I still maintain Wolcott and Berube split the vote and I was simply the Jesse Ventura of new bloggers. This year I promise that if we win something, I will get drunk and fall on my face. At which point, I will be making sure to wear something like this, and nature may take its course.

What other city in the U.S. can you have a snow day called without any actual snow on the ground? Indeed--a whole day of unconstructed time in front of me, all because it just got really cold all of a sudden.

Vote for Pandagon.

Or next time we're pushing him off a much taller rock.

What's a blog for if not publically thanking people who lavish you with gifts? Thanks Norbizness for the End of the Century DVD and the Rock Snobs Dictionary. And a thousand thanks to Brian for the iPod! With all these gifts, I'm going to be launching into a new era of Insufferable Music Snobbery. But I promise that I'll try not to best Pitchfork, not that I could even if I did try.