Today was a ‘wake up early and make pancakes day’. No reason, just because.
I took the basic Vegan With A Vengeance pancake recipe, used chocolate extract instead of vanilla, and added chopped chocolate and strawberries. The best thing about pancakes with stuff in them is that they always come out kind of lumpy so there’s no pressure to make them beautiful. There’s no syrup because that probably would’ve killed me, I had enough trouble eating the stack that you see.
Today I also received my first (of many, i’m sure) painting from Cake Spy. They (she?) mostly sell miniature tiny watercolors. Which is neat because it’s an affordable piece of unique art, but on the other hand there are a couple that i’ve seen that have been sold so I wish there were prints too! I knew that it would be small, but I didn’t realize how small it would be! I’m really bad at sizing. It fits in the palm of my hand!
Onto todays lesson in social skills. I seem to keep encountering males (men would be a stretch) that just don’t know what the word ‘inappropriate’ means. For instance, when talking about rape: no matter what, the reponse is never “They’re only human.” Trust me, i’ve polled people. 10 out of 10 sane individuals know better.
So yesterday I go to the comic store because the new Serenity comic is out. I’m friendly with the owner, so I picked it up and stood at the counter talking to him, holding the comic to my chest. Just because. One of his friends comes in, and later, a regular customer who I already fond of because according to him, he won’t thumb wrestle with a guy because that’s “more of a man” than he ever wants to touch. Awesome.
So the friend asks me what i’m clutching to my chest. He’s a nice guy, older, likes Whedon as much as I do (almost). I lower the comic to show him and the other customer says, “You just wanted to look at her boobs.”
What the hell?
Here’s where the lesson comes in: unless you are friends with someone and know their sense of humor, it is not okay to just talk about someone’s boobs. Like, I have lots of guy friends. And sometimes they’re like, ‘hahaha boobz’ and i’m like, ‘hahaha *smack*’ and that’s okay. Because we’re friends. It’s called tact. And though I realize that this guy is majorly in the closet so he feels that he has to acknowledge how awesome the girls look in my unisex, black Resident Evil shirt lest someone question his sexuality, it made me really uncomfortable. It also made the guy asking about my comic uncomfortable. The owner yelled at him as I turned red and quietly let out a scream. And his response was just, “What?” Then he left and the owner apologized to me profusely. Then we talked about how fucking awesome my shirt was.
Honestly, every now and again I forget that there are people who still live in the stone age that think that women are just a walking semen receptacle. And that men are MEN who are at the mercy of their hormones and fuck us if we expect them to be better than that. Just like there are people around that still think just because i’m white and they’re white that it’s cool to say racist things to me. Except they’re not really racist because they have one black friend. Or because i’m legally married to a man, then obviously it’s okay to bash gays around me. Except they don’t hate gays, they just think they’re going to burn in hell.
Point being, I am not a walking pair of tits so don’t treat me like one. And you’re not a walking dick, so try not to act like one.
How did I get from pancakes to angry feminist in one post?
P.S. I really need to update my whole site. The pages, the layout, the blogroll. Yuck.
under: art, food, life, pictures