Ah, the VMAs! Pop spectacle at its finest! If, by "finest," you mean "most spectacularly overhyped and therefore ripe for viewer disappointment." Which is what I mean, actually, so I'm good. And today, in my quest to provide you with the least timely post on the VMAs EVER, I present you with three defining moments. Which is most disappointing? That is for you (by which I mean "me," since I am writing this blog post) to decide!
Well, the verdict is finally in, and it looks as though it IS in fact possible to be a bizarro douche in 140 characters or less. Today's trending Twitter topics include #dontcuffhim and #dontwifeher, and both offer a shit-covered window into the minds of Twitter's best and brightest gender stereotypists. (You know, like a typist who only writes about gender stereotypes. Zing!)
If you aren't clued in to Twitter trends are about, (what, do you have like, better things to do?) they are basically prompts or topics that wind their way through the Twitterverse as more and more users respond (using the # symbol to indicate their participation).
Today's trends are all about marriage, and why certain men and women aren't worth the trouble. Hold on to your hats, folks. It's gonna be a douche-y ride.
Betty is enslaved, while also being the slave master. This is what I hate about her. She wants freedom and agency when it is convenient. She wants to come down off the pedestal, but she seems unwilling, at least at this point in the narrative, to give up the privilege that comes with being idealized.
I, too, have been bristling at Betty's bad behaviour for some time. I don't think I'm alone in that; there has been something altogether vicious about the way the show has been writing her character of late, something biting and mean about every word that comes out of her mouth. Until about the middle of season two, I could have chalked this up to what I personally felt were the subpar talents of January Jones, but she has grown into Betty's shoes. And in that context I'm starting to blame both the viewers and the writers for all the vitriol hurled Betty's way.
After I posted about threesomes over the weekend, a bunch of comments came flooding in. The responses—both on Bitch and on Facebook--were smart, expressive and even witty. Kudos to those of you who shared advice and stories about threesomes gone right—or wrong! Readers also posted comments that touched on some very relevant issues about female sexuality that I didn't mention in the original post.
Read on for more on threesomes, hetero privilege, "why can't I just be heterosexual?", and why porn has led to straight women feeling pressured to act bi.
You know how most of the time everyone glorifies the forefathers of this nation and kinda glosses over the f*#$d up parts of our great nation's history? Yeah. Well, that's one reason why it's important to remember people like Oney Judge. Born in 1773 into slavery on the plantation of President Powdered Wig Boner himself (George Washington of course), Judge escaped after being offered up as a WEDDING GIFT to the Washingtons' granddaughter (and you thought that gift card to Target was an inappropriate present). Before we move on into greater detail, I'll let comedian Jen Kirkman take this one over:
Due in no small part to a summer-long marketing campaign complete with the newly-de-rigeur Twittered event, everybody's been talking about the new show called Glee. Produced by Ryan Murphy of Nip/Tuck fame, it lets everybody live out that fantasy high school experience of gaining fame and popularity while joining - I know you're in suspense - the Glee Club. Glee is the hot new thing so far this season, and has given work to some pretty darn good performers, including Lea Michele (late of Broadway's Spring Awakening), Jayma Mays (completely adorable if hurtling towards Poor Man's Red-Headed Zooey Deschanel territory) and Jane Lynch (who should be in everything ever).
The pilot episode aired in May this year, and felicitously closed with a rendition of Journey's "Don't Stop Believin'" that rescued it from eternal association as the song that accompanied the letdown of The Sopranos' concluding moments. Unfortunately, if the second episode, which aired last Wednesday, is any evidence, it's all downhill from here. The advertising campaign, as is so often the case, is far more clever than the show itself.