Suckfest - Party of One

At least that's what it feels like around this blog of mine these days. Anywho, I've got my tiara on and a wand in hand, so that should liven things up a bit for the moment.

I must apologize for my recent absence. I have been absolutely CONSUMED by this election. CON. SUMED. Like, this election is sitting fat and pretty crashed on a recliner somwhere with its hand down its pants snoring loudly to the Simpsons after eating a hefty, hearty meal of hot Zube. I haven't had much to say that isn't related to politics these days, so I've fallen a bit silent. One might say I'm so invested in the outcome of this election, I'm rendered speechless.

But, few things will have a girl crawling out of her political cave faster than the chance to share a little piece of her life that maybe, just maybe will help tip the scales, even a tiny bit. I'm scared of Palin for TONS of reason. But there is one that lends me the opportunity to speak out, and so I've written a piece for Colorado Women Against Palin, and it will be posted there sometime soonish (lots o' political goings on here in good old Colorado, being a swing state and all, so they don't want my story to get lost in the fray).

You can say you saw it here first.

(Zee would like to offer up her introduction to my story, too. She's insistent. One and a half year olds can be QUITE insistent, if you ask me.)

';;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;/p=o.=m,mmmm,,,

With that said, here 'tis...

It didn't take long after the announcement that Governor Sarah Palin had been selected to the number two spot of the Republican ticket for me to be appalled. Simply scratching the surface those first few days, I questioned her ethics, her experience, and her readiness. But what made my blood run cold was reading that she was opposed to abortion even in cases of rape and incest.

When I was in high school, some fifteen odd years ago, it was not unusual to find me in red-faced heated debate about abortion rights. In the locker room getting ready for cheerleading practice. Over pizza at the local hangout. During social studies class. I was young, opinionated and unbending in my views. I am quite familiar with Palin's stance, because it is one I espoused. I even opined on more than a few occasions that carrying a pregnancy, conceived of rape, to term would be 'healing' for the victim.

I cringe now imagining myself so pompously commanding to know what was best for all women. I was unaware at the time I so fervently argued against every woman's right to choose, including my own, that life had in store for me the unique opportunity to walk in the shoes I'd proclaimed to have so much insight into wearing.

In college I was raped and three weeks after the rape, a pregnancy test confirmed my worst fears. I had become pregnant as a result of the attack.

I found that, for me, rather than seeing the potential for 'healing' in continuing the pregnancy, I was debilitated by the mere thought of it. After much soul-searching and wrangling with my previous personal beliefs, I ultimately decided to terminate the pregnancy.

I no longer profess to know what is best for every woman in any case. Through the years I have shared my story many times in the hopes of protecting a right I so ardently fought to deny myself. It is the least I can do to thank those women and men before me who protected my right to choose, even as I railed against them.

I have not once abandoned the cause, even as I struggled through three miscarriages while trying to start a family with my husband. I shared my story at a State Senate Committee Hearing while 21 weeks pregnant with my daughter and facing the very real possibility that I might lose that pregnancy, too, due to pre-term labor. I cannot stress to you how important it is to me to keep abortion a safe and legal option for all women, but especially for those victims of rape and incest. Preserving choice has become my life's work.

Palin frightens me on numerous levels, but I am horrified by her position on this issue in particular. Palin has not walked in the shoes of a rape survivor. I hadn't either until, well, I did. I won't deny that I have an understanding of those who theorize about women and the shoes they wear. I have done that myself. But because I understand them does not mean that I won’t speak out against them. Women deserve better than the extreme Anti-Choice stance Palin represents.

Through the years, I have been touched by so many women who’ve shared their stories with me. They’ve approached me after rallies and sent me e-mails after reading my blog. I know that becoming pregnant after a rape is not so rare as we would like to think. A woman once e-mailed me and told me that she had been raped, became pregnant, and gave her son up for adoption. She went on to say how strong I am, how strong we all are, and she urged me to continue fighting the good fight. Rape survivors deserve a choice, she said. Whether it is the choice I made or you made or others have made. To this day I am encouraged by her. And I am simply compelled each time I look into my baby girl’s beautiful eyes and imagine her future.

Palin may have her lipstick. But I have my shoes. And in them, with my daughter on my hip, I will proudly continue to walk the path I’m on, preserving the rights of every daughter

And just to add...

McCain? I'm no fan. No anymore. I'll be a bad Democrat and say he was a pretty all right guy and I actually kinda liked him. In 2004. But he's different now. It's obvious to me that he's caving to the religous right and sacrificing the real, small government fiscal conservatives to win the election. And that pisses me off.

Though, Palin? I'm seriously considering taking my Bermuda born ass to a lawyer ASAP and asking about claiming my dual citezenship so The Zubes can move to another country if she has a shot at being President. And I'm only half joking. Maybe a quarter.

Later, taters.

Shana-na-na...Na-na-na-na...Hey, Hey, Hey...

Good-bye!

Ha! Made ya look!

You know, actually, maybe it's kind of mean of me to mess with you like that. You being those who find my blog more or less these days by searching for things like 'shrinking girl' and 'girl fucking boy' and 'what should a girl do after a miscarriage (Honey, I am so, so sorry you are going through a that) and those of you who maybe are checking to see if I've posted SOMETHING (thanks for checking in Junebee and Rich). I guess we don't know each other like we used to, but perhaps this is one of those friendships that picks up right where it left off. Here's to hoping...

Contrary to popular assumption upon reading that title, I'm not alluding to my departure from the blogging world, for, as you have seen, I need no formal announcement to do such a thing as that! I am not giving up on my blog just yet. I've still got my big toe in that partially open door. And a bit of my face as can be seen in the rudimentary illustration I've made for you below. To close the door completely would be...a bloody affair. And maybe a little crunchy, too. Ouch.



I was just sending out an official goodbye to my trusted friend, the IUD. The Post-Partum Pregnancy Preventer. I have been so fond of my IUD, obliterating any need for thought or planning on my part. No specific time of the day to take a pill. Nor the need to remember to take a pill at all. It's been wondermous. And also a little interesting to be taking a (grateful) journey with such a character that would PREVENT pregnancy. Who'da thunk it? Not me. At least not about two years ago.

Anyway, I'm so thrilled with my IUD and our newly forged, though short-lived, friendship, that I've drawn an ode to it.



As you'll notice, it's, um, abstract. Straight lines and whatnot. A VERRRRRY loose interpretation of the real thing. Which is a damn good thing because I'd hate to have something that pointy up in my cervix for any amount of time. I'd imagine something that pointy would prevent pregnancy for sure. And sex, for that matter.

So, yeah. Done with that. We'll see what happens on the sister-brother for Little Zee front. I'm hoping this time I'll manage to be a little less obsessed. Ha! As if...

Moving along...I figure after such a long blog sabbatical (as I've taken to calling it, sounds so much more...less...slackerific) I should give you the "how's things?" of things.

Well, things are things are things. I'll update you on a few pertinent aspects of my life. Oh, and I'm going to probably make up for lost time with a ton of writing on my part. Ergo, a ton of reading on yours. You've been forewarned.

Zee Baby



She just rocks. Holy shit, you guys, I had NO IDEA how rewarding being a mother would be. Not a fucking clue. I love her to the ends of the earth and back. From the little bitty toe-toes on her teeny, tiny Zube feet to the tippity top of her big old Zube Boy head. I still, ten months after her arrival, tip-toe into her room at night, more than once most times, to stare at her. I can't believe how fucking lucky I am. I only hope as she grows up she feels 1% as lucky to have me and Zube Boy as we are to have her.

I'm finding motherhood to suit me. As if you couldn't tell. Rather than go on and on about it, I'll just let you know that you can still follow her antics here. If I didn't update that blog regularly some relatives would probably hunt me down and kill me and steal my baby. So it's always up to date.

Work

Grr...It's Spring Break. And I work at a hotel. 'Nuff said.

Roomba

Hump it less but love it more.

Zube Boy

He's over it with the Cookie Crisp. Now he's digging Oh's. Still enjoying bathtime. No change on that front.

Home(s)

We still have three houses. Meh.

Our renters are totally cool, though. It's just so weird. Like, the other day, I went to pick up the rent at the house we used to live in when Zee Baby was born. It was the first time I'd been there since the renters moved in. I've kind of avoided going there because I can be a sentimental fuck when it strikes my fancy. Which is often.

The renters are youngish. And dudish. But not the annoying kind of spikey hat, I'm too cool, dudish. The kind I like. The kind Zube Boy probably was before he got married and owned a house/houses and became a Daddy. Anyway, they were cold chillin' with their snowboard posters on the wall, and I just kept glancing over at the spot where our couch was; where my water broke at 3AM on May 16th, 2007. And it was so hard to get my head around the fact that the spot where I was once upon a time made aware of Zee's imminent arrival, now likely sees more bong action than baby bouncing on a knee action. A tear did stir in mine eye. I miss that house.

But it's kept clean. It's respected. And that I dig.

The house we live in now is really cool. Lots of potential. Much smaller than the one we moved out of but with lots of awesome storage. And when you're a pack rat like me, storage is key. I'll post photos soon. We've painted and put down wood floors and it now doesn't bear so much of a resemblence to the play area in McDonald's (I mean, SERIOUSLY! Bright yellow living room, navy blue cabinets, and a lime green bathroom? All within view of one another? What were you thinking?). We've got a nice big yard that is totally snowed in but will be (and was) quite lovely in our short summer months. We have a fire pit. And nice neighbors who adore Zee. Whom, I've convinced myself, will be lovely grandparenty type people to her as she gets older. Much more auspicious than our previous neighbor situation. And let's not forget the nose puncher on the other side. Yeah. Don't miss the neighborhood.

Politics

I'm drinking the Obama kool-aid these days. Yes I am. It just seems to me it would be nice to have someone people on both sides can get behind for once. We've been divided for long enough. And I've heard Independents and Republicans say they'd vote for him. So I'll enjoy this sugary juice for a bit. I don't especially care whose kool-aid you're drinking. Just, you know, care or something.

Haven't done much on the Pro-Choice front. I should probably reconnect with Planned Parenthood. My previous contact is no longer there, but I should make myself available to whoever is there now.

News of Note

As soon as March is done, perhaps I'll be less work and more play. And more write. That sounds nice. I'm getting sleep now (and plenty of it! Zee sleeps from 6PM - 6AM. It fucking rocks!).

I'll be scampering off to Jersey in the beginning of May to see my most awesome neice and nephew and the rest of the fam. Can't wait. I'm totally stoked.

Well, that's what's new and old with me. Let me know if you're still reading so I can check you out, too. In a way, this blog thing got a little out of hand. I really like the whole reciprocity of the reading and writing. You getting to know me. Me getting to know you. Now that I've disenchanted a large population with my disappearance, maybe I'll be able to enjoy the bloggy neighborhood a little more than I was.

I'm out. Still think of you all fondly on those evening tip-toed sojourns into my little girl's room. I can't thank you enough for supporting me throughout a pregnancy that, months out, I could brush off as being breezy. But in the throes of it was scary and lonely and dragging. I love you for keeping me sane, and insane, throughout. And you're partially responsible for the fact that Zee Baby is here. I'll remember that when she's fifteen and tells me she hates me. After she slams the door to her room, I shall spin around and hunt you down. And thank you again.

Now, Before You Start Yelling...

Hear me out. I wanted to share with you the testimony I read on Monday to the Senate Hearing Committe who would decide whether or not to pass SB 60, a bill that would require hospitals to inform rape victims in the ER about emergency contraception, onto the Senate floor.

But first, let me disclaimer away...

-I have an appointment tomorrow and the doctor said he would actually like to see how my body handles a bit of activity since, at the last appointment, things were looking good.

-I only spoke for four minutes. Not much standing at all.

-I think the stress of NOT speaking out would have been more detrimental than anything else.

I think that's all. Onto my testimony...

I am here today in the hopes that my story might encourage you to vote yes on SB 60. When I was a twenty-year-old college student, an acquaintance offered to give me a ride to the grocery store upon hearing my car was broken down. At the end of that evening, I was a survivor of rape. A few weeks later, eleven years ago on Valentine’s Day, my college housemates bought me a pregnancy test and encouraged me to take it in the hopes that I’d stop worrying about something as unlikely as a pregnancy resulting from the attack.

I remember taking that test as though it happened just yesterday. My three roommates anxiously gathered in the common area. Me, leaning against the sink in the bathroom, hands trembling, reading the pregnancy test instructions. The second pink line showing up immediately. Running out of the bathroom, past my roommates, slamming my bedroom door and collapsing on my bed. Sobbing into my pillow. Hearing the shuffle of my roommates in the bathroom, whispering confirmation of what my reaction had already told them was true.

I remember thinking why me? Why would I be one of the unlucky few? So many of the statistics I’d heard, in all of my Pro-Life upbringing, proclaimed that getting pregnant as a result of rape was extremely rare. As in, a 1% chance. And I’d clung to that statistic, trying desperately to ignore the queasiness and exhaustion of early pregnancy. Surely I’d be one of the 99%.

I can never fully convey the horror of that day. I felt violated. Not once. But twice. First by a friend of a friend. And then, by my own body. My body, which, according to my rudimentary understanding at the time of what my Pro-Life compatriots had always told me, was supposed to release chemicals after the rape that would reject a pregnancy.

Now I know that those statistics and the talk of one’s body rejecting a pregnancy after rape are not true. For the simple reason that, as many times as I have shared my story, which is many in the past few years, at least one woman has pulled me aside and told me that, she too, became pregnant as a result of rape. It happens more than we know.

I can only imagine what life would have been, and would be like now, for me if I had not become pregnant. I’ve since learned that, while emergency contraception wasn’t widely available at the time, doctors were able to prescribe a number of birth control pills with a similar effect to Emergency Contraception. If I had only known, I might not have become pregnant at all. I might have been able to celebrate Valentine’s Day at a restaurant having dinner with my incredibly supportive boyfriend. Instead, I spent the evening contemplating just how and when I would tell my Mom and Dad.

In the end, with the support of my parents, family, and friends, I terminated the pregnancy. The experience left me with a greater understanding of what it is like to face an unwanted pregnancy, no matter the circumstances. I now support Choice and the rights of women to make decisions regarding their own medical care when it comes to their reproductive lives.

It would be my dream that no woman would have to endure the trauma of being raped. More so, I dream that a survivor of rape would never have to face a pregnancy resulting from the attack. Those dreams are unlikely to ever be realized. However, providing rape victims with information about Emergency Contraception is one step in the right direction. I can only hope that all of you here will understand the importance of providing rape victims with all of the relevant information regarding their care. And that includes information about Emergency Contraception and the possibility of preventing pregnancy.

I am now 25 weeks pregnant. My husband and I are expecting our first child. It has been a struggle to get here. We suffered three miscarriages last year. With each loss, I struggled with the question of why. Why would my body maintain a pregnancy after rape while failing to keep those I’d made together with a loving man? A nice man. A man who would never, in a million years, dream of harming me. I will never know. Had I been able to prevent the pregnancy eleven years ago, I would never wonder about that one aspect of an already heart wrenching situation.

Life as a survivor of rape is difficult enough. The overwhelming sense of not being in control of my body and my fate is a feeling I’ve shared and discussed with other survivors. Withholding pertinent medical information from someone on the threshold of a struggle to regain control is unspeakable. Please put control back in the hands of those to whom it belongs. The rape victim.


And...drumroll please...the bill was passed on UNANIMOUSLY by all eleven committee members. Which was a complete surprise. I feel like I made a difference, somehow.

I've Submitted My Letter to the Editor

On Friday, June 30th, Planned Parenthood clinics across the state will be giving out free Emergency Contraception (EC) as they did on July 1st of last year. This is in response to Governor Owens vetoing House Bill 1212 – Colorado's Prescriptive Authority Bill. This bill would have enabled Colorado pharmacists to prescribe and dispense EC to women without a doctor’s prescription.

I urge my fellow Summit County residents to participate in this event. Some of you may think you have no need for Emergency Contraception. When I heard about the event last year, I thought it was a great idea, but didn’t think I’d actually participate. I’m married and planning a family. Why would I need Emergency Contraception?

The truth is I should know better. As some of you may remember from a previous article in the Summit Daily, I am all too familiar with the scenario EC could prevent. Ten years ago, I was a twenty-year-old college student. My car was broken down, and I accepted a ride from a friend of a friend to the grocery store. At the end of that evening, I was a survivor of rape. A month later, I discovered I was pregnant. Ultimately, I terminated the pregnancy. Had I had access to Emergency Contraception, I might not have become pregnant at all.

I encourage you to remember that emergencies happen to us, and people we love, without the benefit of foresight. Though young women are at higher risk of being victimized, rapists don’t necessarily discriminate based on age and marital status. You can bet that I’m going to make the effort to get to a Planned Parenthood on the 30th. We just never know when and how an unwanted pregnancy might occur. I know I didn’t.

I'm Wearing Underwear That Is a Little Too Big...Or, okay, Maybe a Lot...

Which might explain why I donated money to Republicans today.

Wait...That was a low blow. I didn't mean it all mean-like and stuff. In all honesty, I think my money will go further with these folks than it would in the Democratic Party...

Log Cabin Republicans

Republicans for Choice

And so there it went...Besides, Zube Boy is a Republican in line with these two organizations, so I think it's only fair to attribute some of our donations their way.

Also, if you were ever curious about math and clothes shopping and the intersection of the two, well, it might behoove you to keep in mind that if you are a woman who wears 9/10 jeans, you are NOT a woman who wears 9/10 underwear. 9/10 DOES NOT = 9/10...Mmmmkay? Please take this as a warning: Never EVER EVER EVER buy underwear that is all rolled up neatly in a little package that you ASSUME is your size because I think the underwear people TOTALLY forgot to communicate to the jeans people that 9/10? Is more like a 13/14. Which is cool by me because my ass is feeling particularly tiny today. So tiny and lithe that it's going for a swim...in it's digs...

Well, Would You Look at That...

I have a soapbox under me feet. While I'm up here...

I'm sure some of my readers are Pro-Life, and I REALLY don't intend to alienate you guys, but I'm going to warn you that I'm about to throw a wee bit of a tantrum. Understand that it's simply emotions bubbling over that I usually keep in check because I'm ALWAYS composed in debate. However, this is my playroom and I kind of feel like throwing my toys around for a minute. I'm fucking tired of being diplomatic. I know it's essential, and I know it gets me further than being a raving lunatic, but that doesn't make it any less tiresome.

You all are probably aware that I'm an advocate of choice. I have that big ass ugly button in my sidebar which says so. I wish I could find a more visually appealing one, but the sentiment is more important to me than having a pretty blog. Although, if any of you can recommend a source for buttons that don't blink and express those two of my most sacred beliefs, I'd love you forever. Not that I don't already, but who couldn't use some more Zube love? I'm full of it.

Anyway, choice is something I am PASSIONATE about. So passionate that I actually cried when Bush was reelected because I worry that under his administration the clock is slowly being turned back on Roe v. Wade, while we're all distracted by the War on Terror. My Republican husband didn't even laugh at my crying ass. He hugged me because he understands this passion. There's very little that we don't poke fun at one another for, and this is one of those things.

The reason I'm so passionate about it is that if I hadn't had access to a legal and safe abortion, I, without a doubt, would not be living in Colorado married to the Pro-Choice Republican guy I'm wildly in love with. Who knows where the fuck I'd be, but I'm so happy with where I am, that I've got nothing but love for all of the women and men who were fighting for my right to choose even while I was Pro-Life and fighting to deny myself that right. How's that for irony? "I think it would be healing for a survivor of rape to give birth to the resulting child," ranks way up there on the list of Dumbest Shit I've Ever Said.

Through my perusal of Pro-Life websites yesterday, I came across several points I'd like to address. The following aren't direct quotes; they're merely points I've seen expressed over and over again. I'm not linking because I have no desire to start a pissing match with anyone. The following is my lil' ole' opinion, peppered with lots of cussing because I'm cranky today. Maturity be damned.

"I had an abortion, and now I regret it. Abortion should be illegal because every-fucking-body else who had one must regret it, too."

There are so many websites where women can go and get hugs and get prayed for and all that happy horseshit because they made a decision they regret. And that's all well and good. I think it's important to support people who've made difficult decisions in a pinch and aren't all okay with it. Unfortunately, though, that's the fucking nature of making a BIG DECISION there's no going back on. I'm sorry you regret having an abortion. That sucks. It really does. But it doesn't mean the right should be taken away from EVERYONE. We can't go around protecting people from making a decision they might regret. Seriously.

I am at peace with what I decided, but I'm not going to turn around and say that every woman who finds herself pregnant in the least ideal situation should have an abortion. See? And I know some women who, though it's nearly impossible to tell anyone, regret not having had an abortion. They're not going around saying pregnant teenagers shouldn't be allowed to have kids. They had their kid and they love it like crazy, but they still wonder where they'd be if they hadn't. They made a decision and they're living with it. Me, too. So are you. And how each of us feels about the decision we've made should not influence the legality of others to make their own.

Now, if you were forced/coerced into having an abortion, that's WRONG and that's not what choice means to me. CHOICE means you have a fucking CHOICE in the matter and THAT is what I stand for. That's why the whole Pro-Abortion label pisses me right off. Let's just say that if I have a daughter and she comes to me at the age of sixteen and tells me she's pregnant, I give her FULL LICENSE to make a decision she can live with. I mean, ideally she wouldn't be in that predicament because she'll have come to me before she had sex and we'd have gone to the doctor and gotten her on birth control, but BIRTH CONTROL does not come with any GUARANTEES. Contraception fails, people.

But, if she wants to have a baby? Fine. If she wants an abortion? Fine. I will love her and support her NO MATTER WHAT. And, if abortion is illegal and that's what she wants? I'll fly her ass to some other country. I'm not really too worried about my future daughters not having access to abortion. It's the poor people who might want one and can't afford to travel to Canada that I'm most worried about.

I don't think the reason there are so many sites like this is that the majority of women regret having an abortion. I believe it's more or less because women who don't regret aborting don't feel the need to publicize it to the world. It's a private decision, and one they're thankful to have been able to make, but also one that people would condemn them for and who the fuck wants to deal with that?

I do because I don't really give a rat's ass what anyone other than my husband and my family think of me. I had an abortion and my whole town knows it. I don't regret it, and I'm sure I'm not the only one.

"Abortion should be illegal, except in cases of rape and incest."

That's simply not possible, and I'll tell you why.

The asshole that raped me didn't have the common decency to give me a black eye or SOMETHING, ANYTHING that would have made me a credible plaintiff. I knew him through a friend. He offered to give me a ride to the store because my car was broken down. I accepted. I, though I felt squicky about it and should have spoken up but, being young and naive, followed him into his house so he could retrieve some unknown thing. Which, come to find out, was in between my legs. And that was that. He didn't rough me up. He didn't have to because I was sufficiently frightened by the inability to breathe. A pillow over your face doesn't leave much in the way of bruising. I acquiesced because I wanted him to ease up on the suffocation. I wanted to get out alive. And I did. Thank fucking goddess.

If I'd have fought and pissed him off, I might've gotten injured, making me more believable. I might've also bought myself a one way ticket to a backyard burial. Who the fuck knows, for sure? If you ask me today if I really think he was capable of murder, I'd say probably not. But when you're deprived of oxygen and gasping for air, you'll think some crazy shit.

Does that suck? Is it unfair? Yeah. It sucks all hell and then some, but would I be willing to have innocent people put in prison for rape just so that I, or any other woman could simply say, "I was raped," and have it believed? No. Of course not. It's a sad fact of life that people lie about shit. That's why we have a judicial system. Innocent until proven guilty, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

All of that to say that I didn't prosecute. If abortions were only legal for survivors of rape, how would I have proven that that is indeed what happened? And, even if I HAD decided to prosecute, do you know how fucking long things take to even GET to trial, much less be given a verdict? I'd have given birth by the time that happened. Actually, I probably would have been forced to carry the pregnancy to term anyway because my word against his surely wouldn't have held up.

So, that argument? Stupid and impossible.

"The abortion industry is full of money hungry assholes."

Hmm...Let's see. When I had an abortion, it was $450. I opted for the general anesthesia. Otherwise it would have been $300. Friends who've had kids have told me THAT costs anywhere from $3,000 to $5,000 if you have a fairly uneventful birth. It's exponentially higher if you have an emergency C-section or something outside the average push, push, why hello there little newborn event. I don't hear anyone calling OB's money grubbing assholes.

And, the cost of birth aside, I'm assuming that having a kid for THE REST OF YOUR EARTHBOUND LIFE costs a bit more than $500 bucks. I mean, come on.

I prefer that a doctor who is going to OPERATE on my UTERUS be, you know, compensated monetarily for that. I don't mind throwing in a little extra dough for the fact that they very likely risk their fucking lives to provide health services they believe in because they CARE about women.

I find it hard to believe that the lady who held my hand and told me not to cry because those rosary bead throwing, "Murderer" screaming fuckers just didn't understand, was doing it because she wanted the portion of the $450 that went to her paycheck. She was going to get it whether she held my hand or not. And okay, maybe she didn't say 'fuckers' but anyway...







Whew. I feel much better having gotten that off my chest. If you've read this entire thing, you deserve a fucking medal and all the Zube love I've got in my reserve. It's hard to fight for and believe in something and yet ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS keep your cool. I try. I really, really do, but every once in a while people don't fight fair with me and I want to retaliate. I'd rather do that here than there. Because here, I'm attacking an argument and not a person. There, erm, not so much.

Why I Speak Up...

I’ve had something on my mind lately, and I've been remiss to post it because, well, I don’t know really. Sometimes I feel like folks come here to get a good laugh, and when I throw in a serious post I worry that I'll fuck up the ambiance or whatever the hell I’ve got going on here.

Thing is, my twisted sense of humor arose as a coping mechanism. If I hadn’t been able to say, “Ah, fuck it. I’ll stick around and see what else could possibly go wrong,” I might’ve ingested that bottle of pills oh so many years ago. But I didn’t. Okay, so it also had a little to do with envisioning my family at my funeral and realizing it would tear them apart, but I digress...

I’ve been active with Planned Parenthood lately, in particular supporting the cause of mandating hospitals to inform rape victims of the availability of Emergency Contraception. I’ve spoken at a rally, a press conference that was aired on the news, and to a few reporters here and there about my experience of being raped, impregnated by the rapist, and having an abortion ten years ago. I think it is incredibly important to share my story for several reasons, but here are just a couple.

Firstly, I want any other woman who might be in the throes of a similar experience to know that they are going to be okay. Really, really, really. That’s most important to me. Maybe a little crazy, but okay. I'm a little crazy and a little okay, and it's cool. It's cool, too, to cry a lot or a little. Just do what feels right. That's about all you can do. You are not alone, though it may feel that way.

Which leads me to...

Secondly, rape survivors are left largely on their own to deal with the repercussions of their assault. It’s fucking sad and shouldn't be that way. I remember spending much of my energy worrying what people would think of me if I told them. It’s not like breaking your leg. When you break your leg, you ring up your family, friends, and work and say, “Hey, I broke my fucking leg,” and people send you flowers and cards and you get days or weeks off of work.

When you're raped, at least in my experience, it doesn't go down like that. Especially if it's not 'Stranger Jumping Out of the Bushes' rape. I went to class the next day, and work after that. Everyone thought it best if I carried on as usual. So I did, wanting to make them feel better. I proved that I could still tie my shoes, and take notes about algorithms. Truthfully, though, it would’ve been nice if I could have taken some time to recuperate from a broken spirit. Just because you can't see it or slap a cast on it, doesn't mean it can't be broken or injured, ya know?

Rape is something many survivors suffer in silence because it involves sex, which people feel icky talking about it. But, people need to talk about it to make the stigma go away, and since I feel pretty damn okay most days, I do. I’ve got to honor my funny bone by giving appropriate recognition to just where it came from. Being tough as nails, and knowing that each time I laugh, it proves that the mother fucker who raped me couldn’t take that away. Not forever, anyway.

I have noticed that my serious posts go largely uncommented on. And you know what? That’s okay. Seriously you guys. One of the hardest parts about going public for me has been the response from other women who’ve told me how brave I am and relayed their stories. I usually say, “First of all, I’m no braver than you and second of all, it happened to me, and I still don’t know what to say to you except that it sucks and I’m sorry.” I feel like if I'm standing up in front of 200 people telling my story, I should know the perfect response, but I don't.

I'm only human. As are you all. Well, except for the one or two aliens that might read this, which makes me hope that I'm not a case study for earthling normalcy. If so, we're all fucked. But, to the humans, it's okay to be human, and not know what to say.

So, it's off my chest now. Thank you. I feel better. Hopefully, you are no worse for the wear, which would be the best case scenario for both of us.

Nooooook...Leeeeee...Arrrrrrrr...

For the love of little red apples. That's how it's fucking pronounced. Not nookular.

Whew. I feel better now. I've gotta stop listening to Air America.

Nah. I think it's quite good to be all pissed off about something.

I Love Rock and Roll

One day I was walking down my street kicking a rock, thinking about whether I liked cheese or onion and garlic perogies better. I would kick the rock and watch it roll across the ground. Then, peering down the road at my rolling rock, I saw it land right in between two shiny black shoes. Attached to the pants and body of a man.

President George Bush. I rolled my eyes, and groaned. What in the hell did I do to deserve this encounter?

George Bush: Hi, I'm the President.

Zube Girl: Der.

Bush: So, what's up?

Girl: I'm just kicking a fucking rock minding my own business.

Bush: Gee, why the hostility.

Girl: 'Cause you suck, dude.

Bush: Wh-wh-whatever do you mean?

Girl: I mean that I think you're a pompous asshole who is leading our country to ruin, and making everyone around the world hate us when you had the perfect opportunity after 9-11 to, I don't know, rally up the world behind us. And, do you think I would be in the Oval Office if I told everyone that God spoke directly to me and told me how to run the country? No. I'd be in a loony bin.

Bush: But...

Girl: No, no but's. Now would you kindly give me my rock back?

Bush: Here you go. Well, have fun kicking your rock, loser.

Girl: Have fun depleting women's rights, dumbass.

Nah. Never happened. Unfortunately.

Grrrrrrr....

You've got to be fucking kidding me. Zube Boy and I should just give up now because having cohabited for three years before our nuptials, we're doomed for divorce anyway!

This pervasive religion in government is making me want to claw my eyes out with a fork lately.

The thing is, I would never in a million years deny another person the right to practice their religion and believe in their God. It's all good with me, so long as they respect my right to believe in my Whatever.

Religous freedom isn't good enough for these folks, though. I don't think they'll be happy until I've either choked to death on the God they're shoving down my throat, or learned to just swallow Him. Hold the ketchup. That's never gonna happen people.

I do find it kind of ironic that zealous right-wingers have taken it upon themselves to prosyletize about cohabitors, all the while giving Dr. Fuckwit Hager, a rapist, a slap on the back for all of his 'good work'. Pffbbbbbt. Hypocritic much?

But...No...Shut up.

Seriously, Georgie.

I can only handle three and a half more years of this shit if you would only shut the fuck up. I remember my Mom telling me that if I kept my face a certain way for an extended period of time it would get stuck, and since I'm obsessed with CNN of late, and scowl every time I see your mug, I'm quite afraid my face will be stuck in a perpetual scowl.

And, while you're at the task of shutting up, get the hell out of my uterus, too. 'Kay? Get a womb or your own. The thought of you all stomping around in there, protecting my eggs and playing a fanatic game of "World Leader" makes me cringe.

*snork*

Okay, I have to admit though that the image itself makes me giggle a little, but this is a seriuos rant. Let me compose myself. Ommmmmmmmm. Whew. Much better. I prefer that image to this one, though. There seems to be a serious lacking of people with their genitals on the inside in that picture, huh? Sadly, my mind's eye picture of you strenously fighting to be 'King of the Hill' in my womb is not real in the literal sense, and the latter photo is.

Honestly, I'm kind of hoping that you keep up with your Christian Regime. I know for a fact it's pissing off my Republican husband. I think I'm going to register as a Republican so I can vote for John McCain in the 2008 primaries. And don't nobody tell me he's not running, 'cause I'm not hearing it...

*sticks fingers in ears*

Mary had a little lamb, little lamb, little lamb...

*makes sure the din of naysayers has subsided*

Don't forget that there are Pro-Choice Republicans out there buster. The kind of Republicans who truly embrace the whole "less government" dealymabob of the Republican platform. Yeah, those guys and gals. I'm hoping you piss them off mightily so that us Moderate Democrats and Moderate Republicans (whom I'm thinking are the true majority), can have a big old summit of some sort and deliberate the kicking of some BIG government ass.

So, keep on keepin' on, Bushie. I beg you to widen the rift in the Republican Party. The true majority will find itself eventually, despite this whole partisan bitterness we've seem to got going on.

After all, We Are the People, aren't we?