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Archive for March, 2010

So you all have one person to thank (or curse) for the return of my blog and that is my housemate, whose disparate thoughts on gender, why Rachel Ray is the scum of the earth, and touching family portraits are the reason I am back to posting. This is her blog.

Going to ease back in slowly with a selection of the past week(s) of my quasi-imposed isolation from the rest of the filth of humanity.

Free Audio Books to Download? And here I was going to make my carpool back home pay in terms of reading me a Neil Gaiman book for 5 hours. 1 Chapter = 1 gallon of gas.

I like Star Wars as much as the next slightly-disillusioned-by-Episodes-1-through-3 twenty year old, but solemnly swear never to use this Sexy Storm Trooper Outfit ever. Ever ever. (Now, a Sexy Jedi Tunic is a whole other issue. How do you transform tabards into something (a) attractive and (b) easily divested, however?)

True story: Coke was called Coke because they made it with cocaine. Not a lot, but enough to get you hooked. A lot of medicines had it, too. Here are some examples:

Do you ever wish you had been born in 1946, so you could have lived the 1960s at the perfect age? Yeah, me too, every five seconds. That revolutionary spirit? The hashish? The women (long flowing locks are my thing)? But then you remember Vietnam and the New Haven Riots and there being no internet and DDT and caustic chemicals in paint and maybe the idea gets lame again. But not anymore! Now, in our enlightened 21st century minds, we can Protest Green(ly)! Woot, mofo. See: Moss Graffitti, your slow-paced bit of youthful haberdashery.

In case you do not attend a women’s college in the middle of liberal lezzie-land, I will remind you that March is Women’s History Month. Although many of these designated “Something’s Months” are disregarded by the plebien-hordes, this one is not, possibly because women are more than half the world’s population. To remind you of this, there is a selection of 27 Graphic Novels to help you celebrate. Am particularly intrigued by the trilogy about the busty feminist archaeologist who fights sexism and befriends Turkish tribespeople via Boasian cultural relativity.

Next in my literary dream-world where I have time to read non-fiction for fun is this awesome book: How the Irish Became White because, hint, they (we) weren’t for a very long time. The levees in New Orleans? Dug by Irish immigrants who were of less worth than the black slaves, although theoretically the Irish could leave and not work in the levees should the mood strike them (and leprechauns start distributing gold). Anyway, a little bit of something cheery for St. Pat’s.

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