You know, just when I think I’m ready to pack it up and quit this plantation, something comes in the mail or a voice squawks in my ear, and I remember to find the laughter. Today is no exception.
I was sorting the mail for the massas when a letter addressed to no one in particular hit the pile. I open any piece of mail with no direct recipient, and usually toss it in the garbage because it often involves an organization asking for money or someone with questionable talent looking for exposure. Today’s letter featured a 1-page single-spaced letter, and four photographs of the artist’s work attached. I have retyped the greatest moments from the letter below, leaving in all typos and other errors so you can really feel what I felt while holding this cold piece of parchment in my hands. You must forgive my inability to scan the accompanying images—something about “being illegal” and “dangerous” came up, but I wasn’t really paying attention. Anyway, here it is:
Dear Magazine Editor,
It feels strange approaching you. Then again We Artist’s have to promote ourselves sometimes….
[Note the typos. I’m uncomfortable. I think part of promoting oneself should require the use of proper grammar and spelling.]
I was tired of painting my usual flowers and landscapes. “Done to Death.”
[Um, why is that in quotes? I know he’s not really dead, or else he couldn’t write to me.
Or could he??????]
I wanted to do something different, stimulating, and enjoyable with a “Fresh subject matter.” Pondering, what could be interesting that would get people into the gallery to at least look? I came up with the idea of “Cats.” A lot of people like cats. That’s it! “Cat’s doing outrageous human things.”
I kid you not.
This is my job.
Read on.
Why cats? Cats have a mischievous behavior anyway, and do what, when, and where they want on there own terms. If cats could, they would be doing human things…
I must admit, I was giggling to myself as these ideas flourished. … As I was painting, other ideas came to mind that would make the painting funnier, so I would change them as I went along. I was very excited to get out to the studio every day and work on these paintings. They were “FUN” and made me laugh out loud!! I figured that If they made me laugh (in my warped sense of humor) they would make others laugh, too. (Maybe I am related to Gary Larson- Far Side Cartoons)”
I think Gary Larson would probably take away his acrylic if he saw this.
The six paintings he provided pictures of include:
-A cat doing a handstand on a surfboard.
-A cat lounging in a bed of various balls of yarn.
-A cat dressed as a grocer, selling things that only cats like: smoked sardines, yarn balls, goldfish.
-And my favorite: A dog dressed as a doctor, performing an ultrasound on a cat's belly. The wall of the doctor's office features the sign "Canine University: Feline Obstetrics." The caption under the painting reads, "you're going to have siamese twins!!"
This man and the sock monkey guy should get together and put their animals in crazy situations.
Does anyone mind putting my resume on monster.com?
Monday, April 7, 2008
Friday, April 4, 2008
NEVER FORGET!!!!
In addition to being a writer, comedian, and blacktress, I am also a grader for an undergraduate film course at my alma mater (yeah, I got my learn on when I was allowed to). I receive papers written by students of all grade levels taking an introductory course in cinema, and I wield my red pen like a sword, cutting into their hopes and dreams—and dropping a little knowledge. What I love about this job is threefold:
1. I get a little extra income coming in (I’m just a freed squirrel trying to get a nut, y’all!)
2. I get to reaffirm my own genius by judging others.
3. I get to guide young Caucasian minds, teaching them how to write thoughtful analysis and become freedom writers.
(sometimes I’m tempted to ask about their great-grandfathers’ slave-owning past, but I remember that that’s inappropriate in academia)
But sometimes when I’m reading these papers, the young people of Diversity University teach me a thing or two … and then I know why Michelle Pfeiffer, Hilary Swank, and Dainty Deb find great joy in teaching. (Granted, it’s better when the kids are impoverished and brown--cause then you can really hold your head up high at dinner parties and art openings--but well-tended liberals are better than nothing.)
Take, for instance, the current topic of the papers I am grading. They are for a film course that combines philosophy and psychology (only at Diversity U!), and has students quoting Freud, Nietzsche, and other scholars as they discuss memory and identity in melodrama. Reading 4 pages that manage to analyze the acting chops of Bette Davis and Freud’s definition of melancholy is nothing short of brilliant. However, when I saw that one of the paper topics asked students to comment on the differences between males and females, my eyes perked up with excitement. Here’s the intro to one paper:
"It is not uncommon for men to be baffled by the amount that women seem to ‘obsess’ over details and events, analyzing every word of a conversation that was had a week ago. Beyond this everyday difference and constant source of fighting between the sexes, there is the fact that women are forced to remember, while men are allowed to forget. This is due to cultural expectations and physical realities that have always existed and will always exist, and can be seen clearly in __________ and __________."
Does this student read my blog? How do they have such a firm grasp on female “obsession” and analysis of conversations that were “had a week ago”? The idea of women being forced to remember and men being allowed to forget is the crux of the essay, for in melodramatic films, male characters get to be playboys—or suffer from amnesia—while women always have to remember the magical night, the failed romance, or….THE KID THAT THEY GAVE BIRTH TO.
Reading these essays, I wondered if this was the key to the differences between the sexes: why do I freak out over a random dude not calling me after a few dates? Why do I replay our conversations in my head on loop, wondering what I said that was “too much,” while he skips happily along, going on auditions and playing magic cards—wait, I mean, doing whatever else he does ‘cause I’m not still into Magic-card Guy anyway.
I digress.
Is the reason for my obsession biological? Is it because any physical union with a man could result in our love-, dislike-, or drunken-boredom-child? My DNA says that it’s in my best interest to remember a potential baby daddy, if not for the future health of my offspring, but for the sheer need to avoid appearing on Jerry Springer or Maury Povich.
The student then went on to explain how easy it is for men to forget, and how the display of emotion common in females is not seen as a male virtue:
"though there are some cultures that are more accepting of male emotion than American culture, it is a present factor in every culture to some extent, tracing back to the fact that the male cavemen hunted for food while the women picked berries and tended to the cave and children."
That is so true!!! I mean, have you seen the Geico commercials? Those cave dudes are always hunting for food and fun. Where are cavewomen on our television screens? They are off picking berries and tending to the cave and cavechildren!!!! From the beginning of time, women have had to remember everything that goes down cause men have been too busy hunting and flirting with cave-tramps. And now, in the 21st century, instead of hunting (which may be an actually legitimate excuse, since it was key to survival), all a dude has to say is that “shit’s been crazy” with them, leaving it up to you to remember when their mother’s birthday is, or when they get out of class so you can casually bump into them, or when you took your birth control pill so that you don’t end up at PPNYC.
Men are allowed to forget, and women are forced to remember.
In case you were wondering, I gave the above student an A+++ and told them to call me.
1. I get a little extra income coming in (I’m just a freed squirrel trying to get a nut, y’all!)
2. I get to reaffirm my own genius by judging others.
3. I get to guide young Caucasian minds, teaching them how to write thoughtful analysis and become freedom writers.
(sometimes I’m tempted to ask about their great-grandfathers’ slave-owning past, but I remember that that’s inappropriate in academia)
But sometimes when I’m reading these papers, the young people of Diversity University teach me a thing or two … and then I know why Michelle Pfeiffer, Hilary Swank, and Dainty Deb find great joy in teaching. (Granted, it’s better when the kids are impoverished and brown--cause then you can really hold your head up high at dinner parties and art openings--but well-tended liberals are better than nothing.)
Take, for instance, the current topic of the papers I am grading. They are for a film course that combines philosophy and psychology (only at Diversity U!), and has students quoting Freud, Nietzsche, and other scholars as they discuss memory and identity in melodrama. Reading 4 pages that manage to analyze the acting chops of Bette Davis and Freud’s definition of melancholy is nothing short of brilliant. However, when I saw that one of the paper topics asked students to comment on the differences between males and females, my eyes perked up with excitement. Here’s the intro to one paper:
"It is not uncommon for men to be baffled by the amount that women seem to ‘obsess’ over details and events, analyzing every word of a conversation that was had a week ago. Beyond this everyday difference and constant source of fighting between the sexes, there is the fact that women are forced to remember, while men are allowed to forget. This is due to cultural expectations and physical realities that have always existed and will always exist, and can be seen clearly in __________ and __________."
Does this student read my blog? How do they have such a firm grasp on female “obsession” and analysis of conversations that were “had a week ago”? The idea of women being forced to remember and men being allowed to forget is the crux of the essay, for in melodramatic films, male characters get to be playboys—or suffer from amnesia—while women always have to remember the magical night, the failed romance, or….THE KID THAT THEY GAVE BIRTH TO.
Reading these essays, I wondered if this was the key to the differences between the sexes: why do I freak out over a random dude not calling me after a few dates? Why do I replay our conversations in my head on loop, wondering what I said that was “too much,” while he skips happily along, going on auditions and playing magic cards—wait, I mean, doing whatever else he does ‘cause I’m not still into Magic-card Guy anyway.
I digress.
Is the reason for my obsession biological? Is it because any physical union with a man could result in our love-, dislike-, or drunken-boredom-child? My DNA says that it’s in my best interest to remember a potential baby daddy, if not for the future health of my offspring, but for the sheer need to avoid appearing on Jerry Springer or Maury Povich.
The student then went on to explain how easy it is for men to forget, and how the display of emotion common in females is not seen as a male virtue:
"though there are some cultures that are more accepting of male emotion than American culture, it is a present factor in every culture to some extent, tracing back to the fact that the male cavemen hunted for food while the women picked berries and tended to the cave and children."
(I kid you not. This is a real excerpt from a college student’s paper. A student whose parents and/or the government pay $40,000 per year for him/her to learn and write such papers.)
That is so true!!! I mean, have you seen the Geico commercials? Those cave dudes are always hunting for food and fun. Where are cavewomen on our television screens? They are off picking berries and tending to the cave and cavechildren!!!! From the beginning of time, women have had to remember everything that goes down cause men have been too busy hunting and flirting with cave-tramps. And now, in the 21st century, instead of hunting (which may be an actually legitimate excuse, since it was key to survival), all a dude has to say is that “shit’s been crazy” with them, leaving it up to you to remember when their mother’s birthday is, or when they get out of class so you can casually bump into them, or when you took your birth control pill so that you don’t end up at PPNYC.
Men are allowed to forget, and women are forced to remember.
In case you were wondering, I gave the above student an A+++ and told them to call me.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Cracking the Code of Conduct
No, I didn't just use that title for the clever alliteration.
Today I received an intra-office email.
Do you know what that word means? It's when you get an email to your office email address from a party within your office.
I'm so glad I went to college and got a bachelor's degree. I would have never been able to use such a word.
Anyway, I digress. I opened my inbox yesterday to discover that I was wanted--for participation in an online course about our company's code of conduct. Apparently, someone had gotten wind of my lewd comments and penchant for sharing company secrets.
I jest.
I don't even know what my company does.
All employees were required to take the online training course, which was scheduled to take approximately 40 minutes.
W. T. F?!
Why in the world should it take 40 minutes for me to take a computer course to learn not to hire family members and/or grab the mail guy's ass? Mama didn't raise no fool!
After my anger subsided, I decided to alter my perspective--look on the bright side, as the therapist says. This was not simply THE MAN, forcing his will upon me. This was 40 minutes of company-sanctioned procrastination!
I clicked the link wholeheartedly, and prepared to tuck in for a hearty helping of repetitive information fitting a mentally disabled foreign child.
I was not disappointed.
I had to read through 5 scenarios, and then take a quiz at the end. I thought I'd beat the system by clicking straight through to the NEXT button at the end of each scenarios, but the company was ready for my laziness and disrespect. A giant pop-up window came up when I clicked the button prematurely.
The computer, it's thinking.
This is how the movie "I, ROBOT" started--only I'm no Will Smith.
I put on my headphones and began to read the scenarios.
What I immediately discovered shocked me unlike any realization I'd ever had: I think our Code of Conduct "training course" was written by Carrot Top.
Here's an excerpt from a scenario titled "Pam Gets an Eyeful"-- needless to say, it has to do with lewdness:
GlobeCo's Business Development Department had a different culture than the rest of the company. Many people who worked there enjoyed telling dirty jokes, and one employee, Ken, often downloaded new screensavers from lingerie catalogs.
[Um, what? What kind of "culture" does the Development Department have that would lead someone to tell a dirty joke and/or download a screensaver from a lingerie catalog? I didn't know Business Development was such a raunchy area of major corporations--what was I think entering a creative field?
Oh, and PS-- when did lingerie catalogs start making screensavers?]
Ken is about to show the newest pictures to his coworker, Tim, and they're about to be interrupted by another employee, Pam, who doesn't find the pictures funny.
Ken: Hey, Tim, check out this new screensaver! These things get better every week.
[Do they really get better, Ken? Do they? Who is this guy? He sounds lame. This is the second hole in this "story" for me. There's no way this guy--who is clearly socially awkward and flirts inappropriately with the interns--would still be employed at GlobeCo, or even have an office friend who'd want to "check out his new screensaver."]
Tim: What's the theme this time?
Ken: I think it's Nations of the World. See the little flag?
[Who added this touch of color? I think this is my favorite line]
Tim: Oh yeah, I see it now. And on the other girl, too. You know, that is probably the tiniest flag I've ever seen! (they both laugh)
Pam: Hey Ken, hey Tim. So I've been going over the—Oh, no. Those screensavers again?
[I don't have a picture of Pam, but I don't think she's cool like Pam from "The Office." I imagine her to be bloated and whiny, and probably eats Lean Cuisines while looking longingly at Tim's sandwiches from SUBWAY. ]
Ken: No, Pam, it's not what you think! Tim and I are studying...uh...engineering! You know, things like wind resistance.
[Now, if Ken really is this pervy, wouldn't you think he would have a better cover line than that? I mean, this can't be the first time he's been caught with his pants down and his fingers on a mouse]
Tim: Yeah, and maximum fabric load. See, this fabric right here has just about hit its breaking point. (laughs)
Ken: Luckily yours is well within its safety margin, Pam, if you know what I mean... (laughs)
[By that, he means that she is wearing more clothes than the lingerie model. Get it?]
Pam: Look, I've told you guys before to knock it off. These screensavers are really offensive. And I'm tired of overhearing your dirty jokes.
Ken: Oh, you're just jealous.
[Yes, yes she is.]
Ken and Tim's comments to Pam are offensive and violate GlobeCo's Code of Conduct, as do the screensavers they're displaying. Unfortunately, it sounds like this kind of behavior has been going on for a while, despite Kim's complaints. Kim should discuss the situation with her manager or HR immediately.
AND SCENE.
Why did they assume this would take me 40 minutes?
And why did they make me take a quiz afterwards?
What I learned from this Code of Conduct training is threefold:
1. The Business Development Department at the imaginary GlobeCo is really effed up.
2. Pornographic screensavers are not okay.
3. Working in a cubicle the size of a veal pen makes you do dirty things on company time.
Today I received an intra-office email.
Do you know what that word means? It's when you get an email to your office email address from a party within your office.
I'm so glad I went to college and got a bachelor's degree. I would have never been able to use such a word.
Anyway, I digress. I opened my inbox yesterday to discover that I was wanted--for participation in an online course about our company's code of conduct. Apparently, someone had gotten wind of my lewd comments and penchant for sharing company secrets.
I jest.
I don't even know what my company does.
All employees were required to take the online training course, which was scheduled to take approximately 40 minutes.
W. T. F?!
Why in the world should it take 40 minutes for me to take a computer course to learn not to hire family members and/or grab the mail guy's ass? Mama didn't raise no fool!
After my anger subsided, I decided to alter my perspective--look on the bright side, as the therapist says. This was not simply THE MAN, forcing his will upon me. This was 40 minutes of company-sanctioned procrastination!
I clicked the link wholeheartedly, and prepared to tuck in for a hearty helping of repetitive information fitting a mentally disabled foreign child.
I was not disappointed.
I had to read through 5 scenarios, and then take a quiz at the end. I thought I'd beat the system by clicking straight through to the NEXT button at the end of each scenarios, but the company was ready for my laziness and disrespect. A giant pop-up window came up when I clicked the button prematurely.
The computer, it's thinking.
This is how the movie "I, ROBOT" started--only I'm no Will Smith.
I put on my headphones and began to read the scenarios.
What I immediately discovered shocked me unlike any realization I'd ever had: I think our Code of Conduct "training course" was written by Carrot Top.
Here's an excerpt from a scenario titled "Pam Gets an Eyeful"-- needless to say, it has to do with lewdness:
GlobeCo's Business Development Department had a different culture than the rest of the company. Many people who worked there enjoyed telling dirty jokes, and one employee, Ken, often downloaded new screensavers from lingerie catalogs.
[Um, what? What kind of "culture" does the Development Department have that would lead someone to tell a dirty joke and/or download a screensaver from a lingerie catalog? I didn't know Business Development was such a raunchy area of major corporations--what was I think entering a creative field?
Oh, and PS-- when did lingerie catalogs start making screensavers?]
Ken is about to show the newest pictures to his coworker, Tim, and they're about to be interrupted by another employee, Pam, who doesn't find the pictures funny.
Ken: Hey, Tim, check out this new screensaver! These things get better every week.
[Do they really get better, Ken? Do they? Who is this guy? He sounds lame. This is the second hole in this "story" for me. There's no way this guy--who is clearly socially awkward and flirts inappropriately with the interns--would still be employed at GlobeCo, or even have an office friend who'd want to "check out his new screensaver."]
Tim: What's the theme this time?
Ken: I think it's Nations of the World. See the little flag?
[Who added this touch of color? I think this is my favorite line]
Tim: Oh yeah, I see it now. And on the other girl, too. You know, that is probably the tiniest flag I've ever seen! (they both laugh)
Pam: Hey Ken, hey Tim. So I've been going over the—Oh, no. Those screensavers again?
[I don't have a picture of Pam, but I don't think she's cool like Pam from "The Office." I imagine her to be bloated and whiny, and probably eats Lean Cuisines while looking longingly at Tim's sandwiches from SUBWAY. ]
Ken: No, Pam, it's not what you think! Tim and I are studying...uh...engineering! You know, things like wind resistance.
[Now, if Ken really is this pervy, wouldn't you think he would have a better cover line than that? I mean, this can't be the first time he's been caught with his pants down and his fingers on a mouse]
Tim: Yeah, and maximum fabric load. See, this fabric right here has just about hit its breaking point. (laughs)
Ken: Luckily yours is well within its safety margin, Pam, if you know what I mean... (laughs)
[By that, he means that she is wearing more clothes than the lingerie model. Get it?]
Pam: Look, I've told you guys before to knock it off. These screensavers are really offensive. And I'm tired of overhearing your dirty jokes.
Ken: Oh, you're just jealous.
[Yes, yes she is.]
Ken and Tim's comments to Pam are offensive and violate GlobeCo's Code of Conduct, as do the screensavers they're displaying. Unfortunately, it sounds like this kind of behavior has been going on for a while, despite Kim's complaints. Kim should discuss the situation with her manager or HR immediately.
AND SCENE.
Why did they assume this would take me 40 minutes?
And why did they make me take a quiz afterwards?
What I learned from this Code of Conduct training is threefold:
1. The Business Development Department at the imaginary GlobeCo is really effed up.
2. Pornographic screensavers are not okay.
3. Working in a cubicle the size of a veal pen makes you do dirty things on company time.
Monday, March 31, 2008
My 12-year-old Boyfriend
I have gotten many responses about a certain scorned ecard, which features a young Magic-card playing tyke. With his blinged-out orthodontia and the Band-aid on his elbow, perhaps he seems a little young to scorn a blacktress. One reader commented: "I bet your fights are adorable!" To which I say: Yes, they are!!!
I then went on to have a 20-minute gchat conversation about what I imagine a relationship to be like with my imaginary 12-year-old boyfriend. I have pasted it below for your reading/procrastination pleasure:
me: our fights ARE adorable--but he always hangs up to "go to bed"
K: haha!
me: and he's like, "Well, i took my rubber bands out, so you should be happy"
K: at least he's done with headgear
me: then i'm like, "well, you can't touch my vag cause i have my period"and he's all like, "what's a period?"
me: and i'm like, "don't play dumb with me, jimmy!!!!"
Look at that smile. How can I just walk away????
I then went on to have a 20-minute gchat conversation about what I imagine a relationship to be like with my imaginary 12-year-old boyfriend. I have pasted it below for your reading/procrastination pleasure:
me: our fights ARE adorable--but he always hangs up to "go to bed"
K: haha!
me: and/or "watch pokemon"
K: haha!
me: and i'm like, "don't you walk away from me, jimmy!"
me: and he's all like, "i dn't want to kiss you, i just got my braces tightened"and i'm all like, "you used that excuse last month"K: haha!
me: and i'm like, "don't you walk away from me, jimmy!"
me: and he's like, "Well, i took my rubber bands out, so you should be happy"
K: at least he's done with headgear
me: then i'm like, "well, you can't touch my vag cause i have my period"and he's all like, "what's a period?"
me: and i'm like, "don't play dumb with me, jimmy!!!!"
K: then he cries and says that he's doesnt want to spend the night and his mom drives over in her robe to pick him up
me: HAHAHHAHAHAHA--PRExactly.
K: but then you make him pizza bites and he's ok
me: well, like, sometimes it's really hard when he takes his anger out on me. he comes home after a game of wiffle ball and he's all yelling at me, like i fucked it up and i'm like, "i have nothing to do with your little league"
he can be so moody sometimes
me: then, he wants to get all frisky, and i'm like, "jimmy, you haven't even discovered deodorant yet, could you please back up?!"
me: Um, should this conversation just be a blog post?
me: HAHAHHAHAHAHA--PRExactly.
K: but then you make him pizza bites and he's ok
me: well, like, sometimes it's really hard when he takes his anger out on me. he comes home after a game of wiffle ball and he's all yelling at me, like i fucked it up and i'm like, "i have nothing to do with your little league"
he can be so moody sometimes
me: then, he wants to get all frisky, and i'm like, "jimmy, you haven't even discovered deodorant yet, could you please back up?!"
me: Um, should this conversation just be a blog post?
Look at that smile. How can I just walk away????
Thursday, March 27, 2008
Things I Learned While Babysitting a Two-Year-Old in Queens Last Night:
Outer-boroughs have amenities. There's a post office, a movie theater, and tons of restaurants to choose from!
It’s very important to know the address of the home in which you are babysitting. It is impossible to order food otherwise.
(damn you, Diego—you make me learn whether I like it or not)
Max and Ruby have no parents. You never see or hear any sort of grown up rabbit, telling them to behave.
As a result, Ruby ends up taking care of Max, doing everything from bathing him (4 times in one episode!) to tucking him in at night (see the “Max’s Bedtime” episode for more details). This makes Ruby sort of like a single mother. Is she a welfare rabbit?
Why do they give this little 7 year old so much responsibility? I mean, just watching it, I felt bad for her. Where were her friends? What about Ruby’s personal time? She couldn’t even practice “Twinkle Twinkle, Little Star” on the piano without Max interrupting.
Ruby's just trying to get her Mozart on when Max rolls up all needy-like.
Is this show supposed to be some sort of subliminal birth control, showing kids the dangers of taking on parenthood too young? It worked for me, and I’m a grown-ass woman!!
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
Nothing's Right, I'm SCORNED
Um, guys, I can't stop making e-cards. If you missed the first 4 in the series, scroll down to the post titled "OURecards.com."
My name is Sojourner, and I am a Photoshop addict.
Or, to quote the great poet Natalie Imbruglia,
nothing's right, i'm scorned...
i'm all out of faith
this is how i DEAL
i'm sitting here at work
and I'm blogging about pain....
Here are the latest e-cards:
Wait, is this one too personal????
OURecards.com
For those of you who follow the blacktress blog religiously, you already know from previous posts that I’m really into the website someecards.com. They have an ecard for almost every occasion, from April Fool’s Day to Black History Month, and for any situation. And I love their tag line: for when you care enough to hit send. SOO TRUE!
I’ve taken to sending them to friends for any and no reason, just to share the laughter and the joy. They’ve reciprocated, creating a lovely chain of goodness. But today, when discussing the e-card possibilities with Katie Walsh, we realized someecards.com was missing a very important category: “rejection.” While they have a category devoted to break ups, they’ve left out the all important moment when you really need to send an ecard. That is, after you’ve only gone on a few dates or had a one-night stand with someone who then acts like you don’t exist. How do you handle this rage? How can you get back at your oppressor electronically?
Well, Katie and I put our heads together and came up with our very own set of ecards: ScornedWomanEcards (we're hoping to get it as a .org, or maybe even .gov--perhaps sponsored by Michelle Obama???). Until we get our website up and running, you can save the images below and send them to the foes and hos that have done you wrong. I think the cards will say far more than your heart ever could.
I’ve taken to sending them to friends for any and no reason, just to share the laughter and the joy. They’ve reciprocated, creating a lovely chain of goodness. But today, when discussing the e-card possibilities with Katie Walsh, we realized someecards.com was missing a very important category: “rejection.” While they have a category devoted to break ups, they’ve left out the all important moment when you really need to send an ecard. That is, after you’ve only gone on a few dates or had a one-night stand with someone who then acts like you don’t exist. How do you handle this rage? How can you get back at your oppressor electronically?
Well, Katie and I put our heads together and came up with our very own set of ecards: ScornedWomanEcards (we're hoping to get it as a .org, or maybe even .gov--perhaps sponsored by Michelle Obama???). Until we get our website up and running, you can save the images below and send them to the foes and hos that have done you wrong. I think the cards will say far more than your heart ever could.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)