Godammit, I’m Mad!

Poor Kendra.

I didn’t have any thoughts about her sex tape until Alicia sent me a link today that left me upset and deeply depressed.  You can read it here.  “Evil Beet” describes the action on the tape in painful detail, painful because it reveals that Kendra complained to her partner about being videotaped and about what he wanted her to do. Obviously, she gave in. And she could’ve said No.

But how easy is it to say no in certain circumstances?

Remember the people whose response to the Terry Richardson stories was essentially, “She could’ve said no?” It seems fair to expect a young woman who objects to a man’s behavior to exercise her free will and Just Say No. If a man doesn’t have a gun or knife against her throat, she is free to refuse any sexual advance or sexual suggestion.

And yet.

How many women have shameful memories of the time she allowed something to happen against her will? Something that happened because she didn’t want to cause a fuss, or scream, or piss someone off. Or because she realized that saying no wasn’t enough and she’d just have to submit and get it over with.

Where is the line between not wanting to have sex and being raped? If you say no but don’t scream for help, is this consensual sex?

When I was a teenager, “no” meant nothing to the men who could impose themselves on me. Crying meant nothing, either. It’s not something most women want to talk about but I’m learning that if you ask your friends, you’ll discover how prevalent this shit it. It’s comforting to know that I wasn’t alone in these experiences but it’s also enraging.

Do teenage girls still find themselves unable to exert their power over their own  bodies? Are their refusals respected or taken seriously? Do they feel pressured to give in rather than make a scene? Do they get to decide how far they want to go and with whom? Or do they give out blowjobs to win affection or a date for Saturday night?

I personally never judge a woman who claims she was pressured into sex. I know it happens but I’m not sure why. I’d like to think that the Terry Richardson’s of the world will face a new generation of girls who can back up the word No.

Is Kendra a slut? Of course! But even a slut has the right to refuse sex. Is it men who don’t understand this or is it us?

Here is  new comment from “renee” on a post from last year about an eBay nemesis:

FIRST OF ALL SHE IS A TALENTED DESIGNER AND DONT YOU WISH YOU HAD THE IDEA FIRST WELL YEAH OF COURSE YOU DO THATS WHY YOUR SO BITTER. INSTEAD OF APPRECIATING HER BEAUTIFUL JEWELRY YOU SPREAD NASTINESS. YOU GO AROUND TALKING TRASH INSTEAD OF HONING INTO POSITIVE THOUGHTS. YOUR PROBABLY A REAL WINNER……. BE MORE AWARE CAUSE MAYBE ONE OF THESE DAYS THE SPIRIT OF THE TIGER MIGHT JUST COME AND BITE YOUR BIG ASS MOUTH….. NOW SHUT IT ALREADY
SPREAD LOVE NOT HATE

Wow! Why is renee so mad?! Why do people who want you to spread love seem so enraged and possibly insane?!

Here’s the problem, as I see it: “You’re” and “your” are not interchangeable. People who can’t get that straight are no good for anything.

Please feel free to register your own grammatical pet peeves, for me or renee, below.

Last night some time after midnight, while trying to figure out why I was watching a show called “Miami Social” since I can never remember who the characters are or which ones are the more offensive, I was rudely interrupted by police helicopters circling over my house.

It became so noisy that my husband looked outside and said there were police cars in the street, flashing lights and talking on their radios.

For the next 3 hours,  the helicopters circled and every so often a directive was given through a bullhorn, like “You have one minute to come out and put down your weapons.” This particular announcement was really exciting as I watched through my front window. I complained to my husband, “Now they need to follow up with a consequence!” As every parent knows, you can’t just issue a One Minute threat and then not deliver. It’s just bad behaviorism.

I called the LAPD early on in this adventure to ask what was going on, and was told that the cops were looking for a suspect in a domestic violence incident. Today, I’d like to know if they caught the suspect or if he’s hiding in my garage.

Anyway, after narrating the action to my husband, screaming “Ooooh, girl, there are 3, no 4 cops at the door over there! Break in the door! Go in there!” I finally gave up and went to look at my YSL Rive Gauche sequin top that I just got at my neighbor hood thrift store.

No police action can stop the hoarding and modeling at the Sister Wolf household. That’s just life in Venice.  The show must go on.

This top is really amazing, must more impressive in person. It zips up the side for a perfect snug fit, and there are little zippers at the cuffs too. One of the shoulders opens with tiny concealed snaps under the gold epaulettes.  There’s a chevron beaded design among all the sequins, and the lining is silk.

Here are the options (assuming the suspect isn’t in my garage and doesn’t kill me) -
1. I can list this top on eBay
2. I can keep it.

If  I keep it, what would I wear it with?!? And since I have nowhere to go, why would I wear it?

Okay, I’m ending this episode with a cliffhanger. Please advise.

If you’ve been wanting to tell Phil “all women are cunts who need to be shot in the face” Spector what you think about him, here’s your chance! I’ll go first.

Dear Phil,

I’m glad you’re going to jail to pay for what you’ve done. You’re a crazy motherfucker and it’s time to put you away. It’s nice to know that all your money can’t protect you now. I’m sorry you are so short, but that doesn’t mean you get to bully people or kill them. I still love the Christmas album, though. Nice work on that.

Okay, take care (just kidding!)

Love,
Sister Wolf

~

Your turn.

Just look at these pigs guys!  The question is, did their right-wing politics turn them into pigs, or did their pigfaces drive them to right-wing politics? (Click on the picture for the full horror.)

This Pigfest was designed by Max, who has taught me the joy of watching Hannity on Fox TV. It’s a nice diversion from Lou Dobbs, whose show I can no longer tolerate, and who seems very close to a nervous breakdown.

Did we leave anyone out? Let me know.

In other Wolf news, the Younger has posted a new video here. How many Wolves can you spot in the audience?

I was very pleased to hear that poor Megan McCain told that bitch Laura Ingraham to kiss her fat ass! I thought about it as I trudged through a shitload of ‘Obey’ products on Karmaloop while checking our the new products. “Obey my fat ass!” I said aloud to my computer. Voila, a t-shirt is born.

Speaking of my fat ass, I received the boyfriend jeans that I won courtesy of fashion herald! The irony of this prize cannot be overstated. I am thrilled. They are really loose and saggy. They won’t stay up without a belt.

So what should I wear rock with the boyfriend jeans? I know I’m supposed to rock some fierce shoes, and I will if I have to. But what are my other options? What kind of top or jacket would you like to see me rock with them?  Help a Sister out with this. I will attempt to model the best suggestions (contingent on my existing wardrobe of course.)

Everyone knew that the woman who just had octuplets was crazy, but who knew she’d be crazy and arrogant?

Watching a preview of her interview on NBC, at first I was more horrified by her face than her words. What the hell did Nadya Suleman do to her face, and why isn’t anyone mentioning it?!  She has clearly had a terrible nose-job, leaving her with a tiny miniature of a nose that wouldn’t fool Helen Keller. Then, the inflated lips! What a mess. Perhaps she is going for an Angelina Jolie look, but as in her quest for babies, she is tragically deluded.

As far as I can tell, this woman has a pathological compulsion to acquire children, much like some disturbed people hoard animals. “An animal hoarder is a person who amasses more animals than he/she can properly care for.” Oops! If you substitute babies for animals, the disorder fits her behavior perfectly.

Women who use their children to gratify their own narcissistic needs are discussed at length in Alice Miller’s landmark book, The Drama of the Gifted Child. If you haven’t read it, let me say that it’s often cited as “a book that changed my life.” It’s a book that is pressed upon others as essential reading. If you grew up feeling worthless, if you still struggle to be your ‘real’ self, if you worry that you might screw up your own children, this book will be a transformative experience.

Today I was thinking about childhood, and I recalled my mom screaming theatrically, “Why did god curse me with a child like you?” I remember how sad I felt, and how I wished I knew the answer to her question.

Now I know that what my mother meant was, I can’t control my anger and I can’t deal with the needs of a child.

I have lost my temper with my own kids more times than I want to remember. I hope and pray that I haven’t screwed them up too much. At least I won’t have traumatized them with a face that looks like a duck.

Again, if your mother was/is crazy, this club is for you! Feel free to speak up.

Flo and Kay are autistic twins who are also savants: They can calculate calendar dates and they remember everything. They enjoy music and they worship Dick Clark like a deity, literally. They are sometimes called “The Rainman Twins,” which is unfortunate, since they are not movie characters. Their lives have been fraught with tragedy, but they are unusually happy and resilient.

Watching the documentary about Flo and Kay, I fell in love with them. I can’t even imagine anyone feeling differently.

My response at the end of the documentary was, Why doesn’t Dick Clark hook them up with some money, so they can afford better care? He has met the twins, and knows that they consider him their personal Savior. What’s a million dollars to Dick Clark?!?

What a fucking cunt.

Ever since he knocked up his girlfriend, nothing has gone right for poor Levi. One minute a rakish Wasilla heartthrob, the next minute a hostage at the RNC with no hope of freedom, ever.

Now he’s lost his job after it came out that he never finished high school, and he can blame that loudmouth Mrs. Palin for making a big stink about it.

Of course, Mrs. P. denies helping Levi get that high-paying job in the first place. That would be pulling strings or something, and with her high regard for this great country of ours, that is something she just would not do. She did write a letter of recommendation for Levi and here’s what it said:

“I have known Levi and his family for many years and am most impressed with Levi’s work ethic. Levi is organized, efficient, extremely competent, and will prove to be an excellent employee. Also, Levi’s physical strength and determination are assets that will be useful to your company.”

How brilliant is her coding?! Let us deconstruct the letter…

“I have known his family” means “I have had his mom busted for drug dealing.”
“extremely competent” means “He was able to impregnate my daughter twice.”
“Levi’s physical strength” means either “I find him pretty yummy myself!” or “Todd hasn’t been able to beat him up.”
“Useful to your company” means “Give his ass a job, or else.”

Now Levi’s life is ruined. His parents are divorcing, his dream of playing pro hockey is long gone, he has two babies with stupid names and he can’t afford to buy diapers. All he wanted to do was drink, do drugs, shoot his rifle and screw his girlfriend! If there’s a god, why is he so mad at poor Levi?!

I have a hunch that he wanted to name that baby Trapped, instead of Tripp, but I can’t prove it….yet.

If you were Levi, what would you do?

Britain’s Literary Review has announced the winner of its annual Bad Sex in Literature award. Rachel Johnson won for a passage in her satirical novel “Shire Hell,” and John Updike won a Lifetime Achievement award for his many contributions over the years.

I think this is a great idea, although I’m not sure how it works. Do the judges hunt for bad sex passages all year long or do people send in nominations, or what?

Although Ms. Johnson was commended for using the “worst metaphors” in a group of “equally awful entries,” a couple of the other candidates are impressive enough to deserve attention.

Here is a bit from “To Love, Honor and Betray” by Kathy Lette.

His towel fell away. Sebastian’s erect member was so big I mistook it for some sort of monument in the centre of a town.

Hahaha! Great, isn’t it? Here’s a passage from “Triptych of a Young Wolf” by Ann Allestree:

‘You are so moist down there.’ He stroked and probed her with two fingers as she felt her blood waken. He raised himself to his knees and bent to roll his tongue around her weeping orifice. He was bringing her to a pitch of ecstasy when she heard Madame Veuve, on the landing, put down the supper tray. Whiffs of onion soup strayed over them as he engulfed her.

It really is an art.

Let’s have a contest for the Godammit Bad Sex in Blog Comments Award. I haven’t thought out the prize yet, but it will be GOOD. I promise.

No filthy language, please. Anyone can write porn; this is about creative writing and the lofty heights that language can achieve.

If you read some of the excerpts from this year’s selections, you are bound to feel inspired. Here’s my extemporaneous attempt:

He unzipped his skin-tight Levis and extracted all twelve inches of his throbbing member, which ached for the heavenly  cavern she had hidden between her creamy waxed thighs. “Ow!” she screamed wildly, thrashing like a horse giving birth to twin foals.

Okay, so something like that, only a thousand times better. Ready, get set, go!