I envy my best friend. That sounds so positive, like I admire her. I do, but I'm also envious of her. Can you admire and covet at the same time? I'm sure you can. I want what she has. She has everything. Apparently I've envied her for a long time, because it felt so familiar when I recognized it. I just didn't recognize it until tonight. A couple weeks ago we both met this guy. He was nice to both of us and pleasant to talk to. I wasn't especially attracted to him or anything, but I enjoyed his company. Tonight she told me that she saw him again this weekend and he told her that he couldn't stop thinking about her since he last saw her, and he did other affectionate things, such as stroke her hair. The first thought that came into my head was, "Of course he would like her." Emphasis not on "of course" but on "her," with the "and not me" not even needing to be added. Envy. There it was. Then I felt betrayed. One of the things we have in common is that we are very strange when it comes to dating, love, the opposite sex...that whole area. If someone I had only met twice before started stroking my hair, I would probably feel either freaked out or irritated. She apparently was pleased. This made me think, "Hey! What happened? You're supposed to be as messed up as I am!" Then I felt abandoned. But why shouldn't he like her and not me? She's just better than I am, across the board, and I really mean that objectively. The only things I have over her are the facts that I'm more sensible and more widely read. And, you know, common sense is just so sexy. But on the other hand, I really do love her. I think she's a very good, sweet, smart person, and most people who meet her love her. I guess I envy her happiness. She's never thought, "that guy? way out of my league" or, "of course he doesn't like me. why would he?" If I could get over my insecurities, I wouldn't be envious anymore. I'm going to have to figure out how to do that. (I am getting better, though. A couple years ago I was still so messed up I couldn't even look a waiter in the eye, and now I can actually hold a conversation with a man I've just met and not feel disgusting. So whatever I'm doing is working.)

Are you sure shes never thought that Rhi? How about something else/another area of her? My best friend Jules is stunning. People stop and ask her where she is from. Sleazy nightclub owners hit on her often. Some little homie boys we met out one night kept calling her their princess. I could go on but I'm making myself feel sick. Just kidding. She still asks me 'do you think he really likes me' when shes interested in someone. Or 'he won't go for me will he'?'. So I guess the strange point I'm trying to make is that everyone is fucked up along the line and needs affirmation about themselves/or their choices somewhere. Mine is 'I dont look as big as her do I?' Of course the standard answer is 'No freakin way'. My friend Sharon always asks us about her s/o. 'Hes really good to me isnt he?'. We smile and say 'Yes'. So I'm sure your friend must have a thing that she envys about you. Wait, is that envies? envys looks wrong. fuckit.

envious. found the dictionary. stupid words

I hear you, Melly. She says she envies my calm. To which I always reply, "I only *look* calm." Then she says she's got her own problems, and I believe her. I wasn't being fair to her, really. I hope whatever she wants to happen with this guy, happens. I want her to be happy. I feel better having said all that, though. I have to get things out of me or they start to fester and turn awful. Writing here always helps (God bless you, Mark Thomas). There's something really freeing about revealing your weaknesses. You feel naked and horrified, but really good and clean at the same time. This is the reality, and I've looked it in the face. And, look! I don't hate myself! Always a good thing.

I used to be envious of my little sister. She was bright, beautiful, outgoing. The kind of person who lights up a room when she walks in. Everyone said so. I felt like I was living in her shadow when we were growing up. I've just been to visit some people who knew her when she lived in England, and they all said how much I look like her. And I do now - 17kgs lighter, long hair, the same smile (but my teeth aren't chipped). It hasn't been conscious, it just happened that way. I felt really happy - she was always prettier than me, but to be compared to her is a great compliment. "Oh you must be Sappho's sister - you're very like" I feel like I'm keeping her memory alive now - I can remind people of her, just by being there.

Sappho is my cat's name. I love that. It's so pretty. I love that there's another human being named Sappho. Somehow that makes me smile. You know, when I was younger, especially before and mid-high school (I achieved my individuality and self-confidence probably during my junior and senior year) I used to try soooo hard to be like my best friend at the time. She used to buy all her clothes at the Fashion Bug, spend an outrageous amount of money...so I did too. She permed her hair. Even tho I have incredibly short hair, I permed mine too. We started Catholic high school together. I tried to make her friends my friends. She was big into the church. I tried to be big into it too. She'd attract all the boys. I tried to. I was one miserable little bitch. But ya know? It's been seven years and we don't talk anymore. I think even if we did, I doubt we'd like eachother very much. Somehow, I found my own identity. I learned how to be happy. Shit changes. We constantly change. But I swear, having some awareness of yourself, liking who you are, digging the things you do and how you do them. It's like that stupid fucking commercial. Priceless. Reading you guys' posts makes me a little sad. I don't know. It's late. I'm gonna stop now.

Sappho is my cat's name. I love that. It's so pretty. I love that there's another human being named Sappho. Somehow that makes me smile. You know, when I was younger, especially before and mid-high school (I achieved my individuality and self-confidence probably during my junior and senior year) I used to try soooo hard to be like my best friend at the time. She used to buy all her clothes at the Fashion Bug, spend an outrageous amount of money...so I did too. She permed her hair. Even tho I have incredibly short hair, I permed mine too. We started Catholic high school together. I tried to make her friends my friends. She was big into the church. I tried to be big into it too. She'd attract all the boys. I tried to. I was one miserable little bitch. But ya know? It's been seven years and we don't talk anymore. I think even if we did, I doubt we'd like eachother very much. Somehow, I found my own identity. I learned how to be happy. Shit changes. We constantly change. But I swear, having some awareness of yourself, liking who you are, digging the things you do and how you do them. It's like that stupid fucking commercial. Priceless. Reading you guys' posts makes me a little sad. I don't know. It's late. I'm gonna stop now.

jesus fuck

Common sense is extremely sexy.

So is Jesus

id do him

something really sexy about uncle scrooge. myself personally, as a guy, am sort of turned off by the chicks who are really knock down drag out beautiful. not that i don't like good looking females it just seems that most of them are well aware of how good looking they are and never let you forget it. it's like they're saying "i can have any guy in here i want so don't say anything stupid." plus i've got this really fucked up sense of humor and it seems like the really really pretty girls are to hung up on material items to appreciate something like that. i like it though, i wouldn't want to date a girl that shallow anyway and it feels good to just completely ignore a woman who is so used to getting her way. they just can't believe it when you turn them down. don't envy anyone. no one is perfect and everyone has some trait someone else would kill to have. so just be happy with what you got and find peace in the fact that you are yourself thru and thru. one thing i got to say to ya all, be true to yourself and you will never fall.

im about to cry. that was booootiful jay. boootiful. it's true tho. i have a hard time getting along with most females. most of my friends are guys. most of the time, i hate women because they're SOOO fucking competitive. it's like this hidden thing where we all need to one up the other, but not talk about it because that'd be taboo. that and most of the pretty plastic girls, you're right, they're cunts. really pretty girls are the ones where you notice their personality, and then, the second time you look, you think, "Wow." Ya know?

I am glad to have a really good female friend here in my new town. I traditionally have always been jealous of her. I mean, way back when, when I first got a crush on that guy I've been obsessed with, and just after she was my roommate, he went for her instead of me. I was overweight and wore baggy clothes and I was in that awful neo-hippie phase and I had long hair. she was cute and svelte (he used that exact word, I remember) and had some trust fund or something with which she bought cool clothes. she asked my permission first and I gave it to her. she is one of the few people who make me feel really generous. she makes me want to be kind. I was sad for just a little while (but never mad at her) and then everything was fine. now we're probably equally attractive. we're both tall and slender and look good in nice clothes. maybe she's a little prettier and I'm a little smarter. and you know the weird thing is that I think we're even better friends now. I think we've decided we're just going to tell each other everything, even stuff like "I was thinking about moving my cds into the other room because I don't want people to look at them and judge me by them." but then also "but that would be so pathetically self-conscious." yes, yes. I know, I understand, I've thought the same things. I care, but I shouldn't care, so now what? I don't have a point, surprise surprise. maybe it's ok to be jealous? maybe jealousy is an intrinsic part of female-female friendship? that is so anti-feminist, could a woman please contradict me? thanks.

as karenina and i sit here and read through this .......a few thoughts come to mind (thank you rhi for starting this) first, rhi, you spoke repeatedly about wanting your friend to be happy...what about YOU? I want you to be happy, i want to read here that you are being swooned off your feet, having your hair fingered and your neck kissed.......when will you get what you want? reminds me of a Luna lyric (which has since prompted me to go and fetch my Luna discs for a mini-retorspective, im home sick by the way, combo hangover and food poisoning) "...your coming out of your shell, you got a beautiful view, your gonna shake things off...." anyway.... last evening, i planned to stay in, feeling all fucked in the guts....wife has been in nyc all week, needed rest and whatnot. a buddy needed a lift from work, so i did, he offered a few beers in return, couldnt resist, next thing you know i am getting tipsy, when i really shouldn't. This leads me to my point here. I was bluntly "picked up". I have never been "picked up" before. She walked up to me, she was a near spitting image of Christina Ricci, maybe a little heavier set, and actually better loooking eyes, anyway...she said "my friends are bugging me to talk to you becuase i think your really cute, so here i am" i was dumfounded and probably more shy than she was but i managed to trudge through the initial awkwardness. I made a point now to drink and smoke with my left hand, hoping if she hadn't already noticed my bright shiny white gold ring, she would take note. She finally did (ahh thank god i said), i said i am "very married". But then I became the repairman. As her friends made passes by and gave smiles and smirks as to say "you go girl!" she remarked "if only they knew what a failure this is" and i said "failure? what are you talking about, i admire your balls to come up to a stranger, tell them they are cute and still manage to be absolutely delightful, your a complete charm to talk to and I am enjoying your company, i see these clowns all the time." pointing to my dopey friends. I think i went too far. She seemed to melt, but i was truly charmed. Anyway, we chatted a bit more and then she retired to her seat, as did we. I then see she is out side with her friends, i walk out (and her friends scatter like antelope to a lion) and say are you leaving? if so it was a pleasure i'll see ya around" Next thing you know ole patrick the saint is giving her a ride home and sharing the last bit of hash i had with her. Feeling even more ????????? i offer to buy her a drink at this slutty downtown bar i know of that no one goes too, literally, we walk in and there is no one there. After 1 drink, we both admit to being drunk, i take her home, end of story, so why am i so god damn mad at myself? because i was swept by someone i didn't even find attractive in the traditional sense. I don't think i could have ever gotten naked with her for obvious reasons, but i alarmed myself and my vulnerability. Plus i had never been so bluntly "picked up" before and well I had to sorta play it through to see what it was like. Anyway, my head hurts, my stomach is a cement mixer and angry sam is home to play, the wife comes home tonight, thank god, she interviewed in NYC....we may be in luck!!!

God, sometimes you are all such fucking nitwits. Cyst, why the fuck would you even ask if something is anti-feminist? Did you say it? Is it true in your experience? Are you a feminist? Then shut the fuck up.

Duhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh..................................Wait..............................Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh............I forgot what I was going to say...............

you told me christina ricci was annoying.

I like Christina Ricci. She pretty. Like a little doll.

oh wait. that was just in 200 ciggarettes. my bad. which reminds me... YAAAY NEW YORK. i hope she got the jobbie. new york is a nifty city. personally, i'd never live there because i'd drown. (i like living in cities that i feel i can weild some control over---nyc would be entirely out of my league) i dig visiting though. no one looks at you and its fun to be invisible like that sometimes. as far as anti-feminist verus feminist, chickie here (although completely rude and a bit of a bitch) is right. being feminist doesn't mean having a plug up your ass. it doesn't mean looking and trying to play victim or choosing words carefully, or wearing only pants and not showing off your wonderous women curves, or shaving your head, or protesting everytime someone refers to women as bitches. naw, to me, being feminist means, digging the fact that both women and men compliment eachother in this world. both are nesc. energies and need eachother. women are beautiful. men are too. it's just a different sort of beauty. completely different but equal. ya dig?

I don't like New York. There are bad bad men there. They do things to you.

Only if you ask em nicely.

Envy's one thing. It's human & perfectly normal. No matter how great yr life is/there's always somebody out there w/something you'd love to have or be. Jealousy's something else. It's nasty & negative & will spoil even the best of friendships. 'Some' women are just too insecure/idiotic or hyper-competitive (sp?)to be feminists. Becuz they really don't like other women. They only hang out w/chicks that they're jealous of in hopes that some of their stuff (good looks/money/witty banter/whatever) will rub off. Or so they can get 1st dibs on some other woman's cast-offs. That's not friendship. Or Feminism. I don't know how women under 30 define Feminism these days. It seems to have become a dirty word again. If I hear one more college girl sniping abt "I'm NOT a Feminist! I want to get married & stay home & raise my kids!" I think I'll buy an Uzzi & go out & clean house... The reason her ass gets to go to university is becuz of Feminism. 60% of women on this planet never learn to read & write. 75% never finish the equivalent of 10th grade... How can a college girl not get that? For me/Feminism was & is pretty simple. If you believe in equal pay for equal work/& an equal shot at the job for equally-qualified candidates/then you're a Feminist. If you genuinely like women & identify w/women's struggles -- all the shit we deal w/all over the world becuz of our gender -- then you're a Feminist. If you & yr best friend can spot a guy in a bar at the same moment/both walk up to him & start shooting the shit/& not be miffed if you end up being the one he doesn't ask for a phone#/then you're a Feminist. If you value yr mind & spirit & what you can create w/them in the world more than yr body & looks & what you can get w/them from the world/ /then you're a Feminist. What's scary or threatening or unattractive abt that? Or am I too much of a dinosaur to even be part of this dicussion?

I think you are pretty right on.

this feminism shit is turning my stomach some more. yes that ricci gals was a complete annoynace in 200 cigs

The point about my little sister, is that when we were growing up, it was hard for me to find out who I was, because no-one paid any attention to me when she was around. It's hard to develop self confidence when no-one notices you. After I left home and she went travelling, we actually grew a lot closer, because I no longer felt threatened or in competition with her. I think thats what hurt so much when she died, we had finally got to the stage where I was comfortable with myself enough to really appreciate what a wonderful person she was, and then she was gone. Death sucks. I'm with R.C. on the feminism thing. The point is its about having the choices available, not which choices you end up making.

thats not just feminism tho. that's humanism. we should all have the right to do as much as our bodies allow (obviously men cant bear children and women cant write their name in the snow without a lot of effort) regardless of our sex. oh hell

"If you & yr best friend can spot a guy in a bar at the same moment/both walk up to him & start shooting the shit/& not be miffed if you end up being the one he doesn't ask for a phone#/then you're a Feminist." From this statement I would almost bet my very last dollar that no one is a feminist. People feel envy and although the word sounds so evil people get jealous. I don't think that it is just a "woman" thing. Although, I am not a male, and wouldn't really know. I think that women are taught to hold themselves to this unthinkably high standard, and when they don't reach it they are supposed to be happy with it. Sounds kind of funny to me.

My name's Cat and I'm a feminist! The whole feminism argument becomes sidetracked when some women use it as a way of trying to force their opinions on other women. If I have children, I would probably work part-time from home. That doesn't make me a wannabe housefrau. It just means I'm not willing to work 10 hours a day, then come home and spend "quality schmalty" time with my beloved offspring. My choice. I tell that to some girlfriends and they see it as a betrayal of my feminist ideals. But hell it makes for great arguments over gallons of red wine. And I'm with Kalli on the girly-feminist thing vs the butch-feminist thing. Nothing smacks of "in-charge and together" more than a smart woman in a cock-jumping red dress. I define feminism as being about choices. Having the control to shape your life the way you want it. My problem is not men dictating the terms, it's more women who seem to think they have that right. It makes me want to don an apron and go burn my copy of the "Female Eunuch".

My point was/when yr best girl gets the guy you both liked/you might be envious for a little while. But jealous -- no. That's yr girl & you're happy for her happiness. Whereas if you're a catty, selfish bitch who thinks All's Fair When It Comes To Men/you'll try to break them up/or try to get him into bed on the sly. Feminists don't poach on their homegirl's territory. I don't regard that as an impossible standard.

I love the feminism discussions. I used to love them because I was living in Colorado and knew few people and was the only self-identified feminist I knew there (there were TONS, baby, but I wasn't in a position to meet them). Now I love it because I work at an ass kicking place which is totally chock full of feminists and queers and dykes and a mormon or two and anglos and blacks and hispanics (out here, btw, blacks ARE anglos, it's a bit confusing...but since I'm from the east coast I still make the distinction because there are so FEW of the darker pigmented anglos here) and that one evangelical catholic guy we gave a gift-certificate to the Christian bookstore for his birthday and the ex-marine we gave a donation to the new mexico autism fund for his birthday. It is the most diverse workspace I've ever occupied. And feminism is still not clean cut because we got the porn-feminists and the anti-porn feminists and the straight-feminists and the lesbian-feminists and I still don't talk about it inside the building for the same reason I don't talk religion. Humanism has a long tradition I can't get behind because humanism was HISTORICALLY something for folks with penii. Being as how I don't have one, and I like the history of feminism better, I identify as a feminist. Being as how I insist on taking responsibility for what happens under that rubrik, I identify as a feminist. Plus, I like the occasional confrontation with Patrick. You know, keeps things lively. But that's just gravy.

Like as in Herstory and not History! We still have a long road to travel. Herstory started out as a small hop, its rapidly moving to leaps and bounds. But unfortunately we have a long way to go before equality is the norm- just remember the old saying, using sugar not vinegar when talking to people goes a long way. Take it from a die hard feminist. And an old one at that. We are making strides, huge strides. The younger men are much more open to feminism, my son is, hehehe, he has no choice! And its from our offspring that the changes will not only be made but be a part of life. Teach your children well, as Crosby Stills Nash & young sang........ it works. There will always be naysayers who have there brain stuck up their butt. That is diminishing too. Hang in there girl. Life will be equal. I hope I am there too see it.

yes for chrissake, hail the almighty vagina.

SHUT THE FUCK UP

this is the version for you. I would love to write a thorough treatment of last night, but I don’t have time. and who could I tell? not a single person. I bet even with this –- to you, whom I traditionally have been able to and have wanted to tell the most (and I so don’t want that feeling to disappear, I mean even without all that other stuff, just the wanting to tell, that is what is so dear to me about us, and I am terrified not of losing my crush on you, not of your losing your crush on me, not of seeing you or not seeing you here, but of not having anything to say to you, because, while I’m sure I’ll know other smart people and I’ll meet other guys who’ll inspire longing and I’ll have friends who will share my appreciation for rare filet mignon or whatever, there is no one else with whom I share the ambivalence, and it’s so much more poignant (did you once tell me you hated that word?) in you than in me because for me there is no counterlife, the one in which the generic you go around doing whatever and going wherever you want without any regard to others’ (and your own) feelings and attachments and commitments) -- I’ll end up saying nothing at all. it’ll be about me instead of the others so it will be dull. it was one of those nights when no one even came close to saying what they were really thinking (maybe that’s like every night), and not only did I get to closely observe others’ hope and despair, I got all the great spanish food that everyone else was too nervous to eat. sunday, june 25, 2000. maybe I don’t know the most. maybe I know the least. I thought I was catching all the many layers of subtext to everything that went on last night. words were chosen carefully, looks were metered out, and, god, I don’t have the energy to describe the delicate politics of seating arrangements. [...] she choked on her wine. “I’m not choking because I’m laughing,” she said. “I’m just choking.” the night was beautiful. we watched the sun set behind the olympics. “could someone explain to me why we’re going anywhere?” he said. I was pleased that I had a good answer ready. “because there’s not enough room out here for six,” I said. I didn’t remember the others’ names. at one point I couldn’t even remember my friend's name. I was a little drunk and I had to hesitate mid-sentence. I was sure everyone noticed. we were all jovial but already weary of trying to locate the exact coordinates of everyone else’s loyalties. six is not only too large a group for the balcony but too large for discussion anywhere. for most of the night we talked in twos and threes. and I was sure that at all times at least one ear was turned to the discussion of another group. but at the twilight something, some place in the cd, I was invited to address the group. “so, is there anyone cute at your office?” she asked me. “that’s the first thing I would have done, scoped out the action.” everyone else fell quiet. so I had to come up with a story. “um, the guy across the hall from me might be cute. I haven’t decided. I think I want him to be cute. I haven’t actually met him, but I know who he is. he used to work at [...] as a film reviewer. I’ve read millions of his articles. and they must have been ok because I’d remember having hated them.” apparently they wanted me to continue, so I did. “I think he could be interested. I wear really cute outfits to work, and I think he kind of looks. I was thinking I could tell him that I used to read his stuff all the time, which I actually did.” “oh, you should, you totally should,” she said. “it's highly effective. guys love that. that’s how *** met ***, you know. she told him she was really into film too.” “oh, really? I didn’t know that, but it totally makes sense. I wonder, though, just how specific she was. I mean, did she, like, critique his work or just say, ‘I really like your reviews,’ and maybe coming from a pretty girl, that was enough. how funny. I should ask him sometime. “so, anyway, I was thinking of seeing if I could find old stuff of his online, read a couple articles, and then bring one up as if I actually remembered some movie review from five years ago. but wouldn’t that be the most charming approach ever? to have the hot new copy editor introduce herself and tell you that she remembers something you wrote long ago, at another job, in another state? then after that, we could chat about portland –- which I practiced doing tonight at that party and it’s so easy and it works so well –- the places we used to go, the great taverns. we could indulge in all that silly nostalgia, and I think all the portlanders here feel it, and he would like me. I’m pretty sure he would. a guy from portland I used to work with was here for a conference this week and he took me out to dinner on the old company’s tab a couple times, and he told me that a bunch of guys there have asked him wouldn’t he really, really like to fuck me? wouldn’t it be great? I thought that was really sweet, that I was up there with the teenage slut as the most patently fuckable. and I’m pretty sure I still qualify, even among the editorial chicks, who are generally pretty attractive and bright. “but anyway. the thing is, I hate his shoes.” the two girls I didn't know laughed. I’d forgotten they were listening to me. here I was, making another awful first impression. I realized I’d been holding everyone’s attention for a while. I don’t normally speak to groups because my voice isn’t loud. I have a hard time talking over jukeboxes so I normally don’t bother trying. besides, I’d usually rather listen. that’s where the real power is. listening and judging and taking notes and letting people think you’re smart just for letting them go on. taking it all in instead of giving it all away. I’d better quit soon. but they did laugh. I liked that. one of them, a former music editor at [...], said, “I know what you mean,” while her sister asked, “what are they like?” “they’re dirty. old. white. leather. tennis shoes. the same ones every fucking day, no matter what else he wears. actually, I’ve never even noticed what he wears because I’ve never been able to get past the shoes. maybe he wears the same clothes every day too. I really associate him with the shoes. and, I don’t know what this signifies, but I think of him and the shoe not in terms of symbolism but synecdoche. a part, the shoe, standing for the man as a whole. sometimes that’s all I will see of him – he’ll close the door to his office with his foot, and I’ll just see this dirty white shoe stick out and then shut out the light.” I wondered if any of them knew that this part of my personality, the petty fault-finding, really was the whole. no, they have no idea what I’m talking about and even less reason to care. “well, yeah, it’s not just about the shoes,” one of the sisters said. “it’s a sign. and it means something bad.” “yeah, but it also means he’s straight and probably single,” I said. “what woman would let a man wear those shoes every day? none worth keeping.” someone else please take over, I thought. I haven’t the energy to continue to pretend to care.

riddle me this, ubernitz: how does standing in albequerque, new mexico and saying "out here, blacks ARE anglos!" differ from standing on utica and eastern parkway in brooklyn and saying "out here, white women ARE cave bitches!" what do these two statements have in common? your test will be graded on a sliding scale. use a number 2 pencil (suggestion: sharpen it up and jam it in your eye.) conferring with your "anglo" friends for assistance will be considered cheating. begin.

Not a complicated question, jefe. Mean basically that hispanics call everyone not of hispanic or native american descent an anglo.

confrontation? with me? how did i get into this discussion? I want nothing to do with it seeing as how most agree. feminism? she's at my house, watching porn tapes and cleaning my living room while im at work, with a nasty stomach virus reading this poop about anglos and random shoe stories.......

Answer: Both statements are sweeping generalities, based on someone not the author's viewpoint of what entire other American Subcultures are like. Both statements also require further clarification, as in "who regards x as y?" and "why is x also y in one location, whereas elsewhere x is x and not y?" My Eye! Bitch! (bad metal song reference alert!)

pladow. tbe yeti drinks on the house.

except that the statements aren't generalities. but i'm too busy to give a shit.

Well, they're implied generalities.

the statements could only be generalities if it were true that "some blacks are anglos" and "some white women are cave bitches." the prefix "anglo-" designates european (specifically english) lineage, regardless of american spanish usage. so blacks cannot be anglo-saxon or anglo-american by definition. "cave bitch" is a disparaging term used mostly by blacks to describe women of european descent. (as you are probably well aware, early europeans were cave dwellers. hence the term.) if you accept that cave bitch = white woman, then logic dictates that if one woman of european descent is a "cave bitch", then they all are. one statement is an untruth, the other is derogatory. but neither is a generality.

So what do blacks call males of european descent? Cave bastards? Mr. Cave Bitch? Cave Men Who Can't Jump? I keep my cave bitch in the cellar, so she don't forget her roots.

bad shoe guy is married. none of this matters. I saw yo la tengo tonight. they were fucking great.

I'm trying to find J.

I am here,should I go back to yahoo?

I'm here,are you still here?

Hey,when did you get home? Did you get my card?

We got in about 11:30 am Phx time this morning.I hadn't slept.I got on the computer to email you when I got back,and actually fell asleep at the computer.I just woke up.I'll check my email right now,then try going back to "chat",to see if you're still up.I couldn't hear anything,I'd hear the ring,letting me know you'd sent an instant message,but I couldn't see them.At the end,I was able to hear the chatters,so I'll try again,now.If you're not there,I'll go back to bed,and try you when I get up this am.

no, no if you prefix the statement with "some" then it isn't a generality because it refers to specifics. Saying "white women are cave bitches" has an implied "all" prefix, so it's a generality. It's like saying "Jews rule the world", everyone knows that a statement like that implies that ALL Jews rule the world. I have a question: Is Lisa Bonet considered Anglo? She looks like she's spent a whole lotta time in caves. How about Colin Powell? to quote the philosopher Carlin: "Colin Powell is openly White. He just happens to be Black." i would be willing to bet that the statement "Out here, Balcks are considered Anglos" has more to do with cultural differences than with ancestry. Specifically, the term "Anglo" is pretty much a Latino or Hispanic term for white folks, so the above statement may suggest that Latinos group blacks and whites in the same cultural group in the Southwest. However, this all just conjecture.

i think we're having a failure to communicate. but once again, i'm too busy to give a shit.

i don't like it anymore than you men.

yeah, i get the culture vs. ancestry issue and i thought i addressed it. anyway. <<the statements could only be generalities if it were true that "some blacks are anglos" and "some white women are cave bitches.">> i tend to define the word "generalization" as a statement in which the characteristics of a subset of a certain group is applied to the entire group. "blacks are criminals" is a generalization. "blacks are simian baby-eaters from outer space" is just silly. find me some brothers who are intergalactic simians who eat babies and i'll call that shit a generality. until then it's useless blather. technically you could call any sweeping statement a generalization, but in the interests of conveying meaningful information i choose to draw distinctions. by the way, i never took the statement "jews rule the world" to mean that ALL jews rule the world. i took it to mean that "the people who rule the world are jews." good luck trying to judge a man’s level of “blackness”. that’ll get you real far. and as for lisa bonet, i’d hole up in a cave with her anytime. enough semantics. i gotta get back to work.

I wasn't judging anything. let alone something as hairy as levels of blackness. Are there levels of whiteness? Maybe. it may actually run the spectrum between red and blue - as in red necks and blue bloods. Whatever. It's completely unimportant in this situation anyway. I apologize for misspelling black previously - sometimes my fingers get crossed and i tend to hit "e" before "h" and "a" before "l" .

whats going on with sorabji, i need a flashlight

Or a shovel. Or a baseball bat.

or a couple hits of some decent acid...

or a toothbrush and some baby powder...

or a 12-pack of charmin ultra

or a spatula and an air conditioner

3-D glasses and a bucket of popcorn.

a basket of figs and some mice, and several lengths of dental floss.

Or, du vin, du pain, et du boursin.

Circus peanuts,lubricating jelly,and a bong.

-1 pack of cherry bombs -3 Fleet enemas -2 copies of Buttman 2000 -2 pints of Thunderbird

duct tape and some gauze pads. circus peanuts. yum.

The Maytag man,5 condoms and a consistant heat source.

A vial of rat semen, a spark plug, a teenage stripper and a houseful of prairie dogs.

A thorny crown, some nails, and a cross

would it pain you more to walk on water than to wear a crown of thorns? it wouldn't pain me more to bury your rich than to bury your poor.

Mary Magdalen, a rectal thermometer and my nail-scarred dick.

Is nothing sacred?

no.

The Belgian Male Midget Bikini Team. In a phone booth. With Jesus. And a Cannibal Corpse cd playing. A Doyle doll. And and Inflatable Fred Flinstone Punching Bag. And a bag of assorted baked moose parts. And Dr. Who. And a few feral monkeys. With aids and ebola and whatever other vile diseases are brewing. And a spoon. And some cheese.

And a Macarena-dancing gargoyle in a plaid miniskirt with a pocketbook full of two-headed kittens. And a fistful of kidney stones. And an assload of Burt Bachrach CDs. And a cotton candy messiah. And ninety three castrated Shriners with diarrhea. And a statue of Elvis made from horsemeat. And a geriatric pimp with three tits. And a hydrogen bomb built by gold plated chimps. And yo mamma. Nothing is sacred. Except for my nail-scarred dick.

A medium size crack rock, some jello, a miniature horse, a printer cable, and some liquid latex.

And an orange pantsuit.

Some ammonia-smelling kitty litter, 2 bass lures with the treble hooks hanging from your eyebrow piercings, a six of Bud, an eight-track tape of Pablo Cruise, a tube of Vagisil (which is correctly pronounced Vah Jizzle with accent on Jizz,) a bag of yak dandruff, a straw to snort it with, and a beat up copy of King Rat.

The dead guy from clerks. Moses. Naked. And Petrified.

you're all very creative. Popsicles all around!

Eugaepae!

Don't take popsicles from strange ladies. Especially ones with a five o'clock shadow.

Too late. No wonder it tasted kinda bitter.

"cave bitch." I love that.

Don't encourage that Cyst,hahahaha!!

93 castrated Shriners with diarrhea was my personal favorite out of that whole ramble. as usual it all comes back around to poop.

I enjoyed the baked moose parts one, and the yak dandruff one.

Yo, where all my cave bitches at? i like that. even though mst prehistoric Europeans lived in tents, but that's neither here nor there.

i don't have a five o'clock shadow... or maybe i do... anyways, one of my mechanisms for making myself feel better is to go to the grocery store and buy a box of "mystery mouth bomb pops" (the best popsicles) and distribute them freely to people walking around downtown. my friend sarah tries to give away stickers, but people are paranoid that they are dipped in LSD or something so usually only the guys loitering in front of the nice resturaunts with guitars accept them. i like to think that people are giving and i try to do the same, but i doubt i'd give away my LSD.

Have you ever seen Astrnaut Pops? Maybe it's a west coast thing, but I don't think so. Anyway, they're artificially flavoured with something orange and something yellow. We used to call them dode-sicles due to their suggestive shape. Anyway, a bag of 100 of them is really cheap. Really cheap. Around three bucks. So one day we had the distribution idea--but people didn't accept them for some reason. I was eating those damn things for weeks.

i've been wondering why its so hard to find the bannana flavored popscicles. those were the best. sort of like the mcrib. why is it always a limited time thing. why not just make it a regular menu item. i mean, whats the big deal about having it on the menu all the time? and raspberry snapple ice tea. seems all the good shit is "limited".

bomb pops are the classic

they keep the profitable stuff. I've been talking to new people about philip roth this week. tuesday I talked to a woman who compared him to a high school gym teacher. wednesday I chatted with a friend about "counterlife." last night I talked to a guy who did a hostile e-mail interview with him. "I'm reading all of his books," I said. "why?" he asked. "they don't get any better."

is he related to tim roth? or david lee roth?

today has been so bizarre. i was sitting in my office working on a grant when i heard some hillbilly type music. i walked down the hallway to the office that deals with HIV and AIDS in the county that i live in, well, all of the people in the office where singing and dancing around. it was just like a musical. then i saw a lady leading a blindfolded man around downtown. hmmm... and as i was coming into my apartment's parking lot i saw a UPS man with a giant box running wildly away from my building. now it's 2:30 and i'm going to go start my weekend drinking. making some jello shots.

oh... i was reading _the breast_ by phillip roth. i have a lot of trouble looking at my breasts now. i keep imagining a man that looks like them. i couldn't finish the book... maybe someday.

One of my friends said that you can fit a midget in a regulation-sized suitcase. Possibilities.

So...um...if I may return to the original topic here... Please give me your opinions: My envied friend called me last night, all upset because the guy that we met that she likes [see way above...let's call the guy M] hasn't called her. Now, I ask you... To recap: M met her a couple weeks ago -- when I was there and saw everything -- and acted perfectly normal and nice and friend-like. The next time he sees her, he tells her that he can't stop thinking about her, he strokes her hair, he holds her hand, he tells her how pretty she is, etc. etc. Then he says he'll call her...only now it's been about a week, with no phone call. Okay, now I'm thinking that this is not unusual behavior. She, on the other hand, thinks that M was just lying when he told her/did all those nice things, because if he meant them, he would have called. Sadly, neither of us has enough experience with dating to have encountered a large enough sample of men to provide reasonable data to support our assumptions. I told her to call him (he lives with her [male] cousin). She said she didn't want to, giving her reason as relating to "out of sight, out of mind": what if M acted like he liked her only because she was there, and now that she's not around him, he's forgotten all about her, because he didn't mean anything he said anyway? But I'm thinking that she also doesn't want to call him because she always has to have the upper hand with guys, and she would consider it debasing to make the first move. Perhaps someone could give me their opinion on the matter. How would you explain M's behavior? Would you suggest my friend let go of her pride and call him (she really liked him), or wait for him to call? (I asked her why she didn't ask her cousin if M said anything to him about her, but she doesn't trust her cousin to keep their conversation confidential.) I'm so useless when it comes to things like this. Help?

my advice: channel all the energy and attention you're putting into this non-issue into something productive. easier said then done, i know, but while you're occupied with all this, the rest of your life is just sitting there patiently drumming it's fingers and checking it's watch. if/when you do this, tell us all how you did it.

shit. i just broke my fucking key in my door lock a few minutes ago. i hope my sister didn't go away for Mr.Cave Bitch Day's weekend. that would truly suck. she's got the only copy. anyway the guy's probably some asshole dork. fuck the bullshit. tell your friend to blow him off and read something useful. maybe that old stupid bastard RAW. or something mindless and pointless. like some HST. or go out and conduct some SPK. unless he's a locksmith. then send him over to my place and open my fucking door when i get around to waking up. nothing good will come of any of this. if nothing else, trust me on this point: it's far better to be drunken and slack-jawed than to be sober and see your friends hook up with the fresh meat that should be quivering on the end of your own hot dripping skewer. i gotta crash out. hard and long. good luck with the silly shit. it doesn't matter what you do. when you wake up, it's always dead wrong.

ignore all that shit. pack a bag and move to upper volta. i'll be there hanging out with a camel and a thermometer stuck up its ass. burning out in the sand.

I can't say that's crazy advice because I didn't understand a word of it. yay me. Rhiannon, if she were my friend I'd encourage her to give him a call. he could be a jerk, but on the other hand he could just be your standard fails-to-phone person. there are lots of them. I like to give people the benefit of the doubt at least once.

Dave, I haven't been putting much energy into this at all. I had forgotten about it until she called me, and I just felt bad that I wasn't able to console her, hence my request for advice. I'm hardly putting my life on hold because of this (as you said so accurately) non-issue. Plus, we're moving down to MD next month...I don't know why she's bothering to worry about him, either. Monsieur Swine: Well, I don't know how slack-jawed I want to be, but you're quite right about the other things. Though HST is probably a bit extreme for her...I think I'll give her some Bukowski. (I hope you're reading this while safe indoors and with a fixed lock.) Gee: I will give her your advice along with "Notes of a Dirty Old Man." That should hold her for a while.

i was really saying "you" in the plural sense. both of yous. guys and gals are a dime a dozen. maybe even less, the market's getting more and more flooded all the time. the crush is, as i've stated elsewhere, nothing more than dna trying to get two people together to fuck and make babies. ask any single mother.

i was having more fun when everyone was listing all the crazy shit we needed to fix sorabji. all this relationship talk makes me nauseous. why's it gotta be so hard to get together and make some babies. i personally don't want any babies. (somebody in here might eat them).

That's my goal.