Quick hit: a non-sexist sex joke?!

February 15, 2009

I think StumbleUpon has finally found me a sex-related joke that I don’t find offensive:

Four coworkers always golfed as a group at 7 A.M. every Sunday.

Unfortunately, one of them was transferred out of town, so they began talking about how they would fill out the foursome.

A woman standing nearby said, “Hey, I like to golf. May I join the group?”

They were hesitant, but invited her to play a round, after which they would decide whether to bring her in permanently.

They all agreed and she said, “Good, I’ll be there at 6:30 or 6:45.”

She showed up right at 6:30, and wound up setting a course record with a 7-under-par round.

The guys went nuts and everyone in the clubhouse congratulated her. Meanwhile, she was fun and pleasant the entire round.

The guys happily invited her back the next week and she said, “OK, I’ll be here at 6:30 or 6:45.”

Again, she showed up at 6:30 Sunday morning. Only this time, she played left-handed and matched her 7-under-par score of the previous week. By now the guys were totally amazed and they asked her to join the group for keeps.

They had a beer after their round and one of the guys asked her, “How do you decide if you’re going to golf right-handed or left-handed?”

She said, “That’s easy. Before I leave for the golf course, I pull the covers off my husband, who sleeps in the nude. If his pecker is pointing to the right, I golf right-handed. If it’s pointing to the left, I golf left-handed.”

Another member of the group asked, “What if it’s pointing straight up?”

She replied, “Then I’ll be here at 6:45.”

I think I like it because she is totally kicking all their asses, and they appreciate her skill. Normally this is when people (i.e., men) would be whining about ambitious bitches, but no! They ask her to join their group permanently, buy her a drink, and ask her her secret– almost like she was a real person! I also like it because it involves penises, sex, and a woman competing with men, but does not rely on any sexist stereotypes that I can see. Plus there’s no awkward shaming about the fact that she has sex, as far as I can see.

Or maybe my standards have just been unreasonably lowered? I mean, this is the caliber of humor I have as a comparison:

A fellow bought a new Mercedes and was out on the interstate for a nice evening drive. The top was down, the breeze was blowing through what was left of his hair, and he decided to open her up.

As the needle jumped up to 80 mph, he suddenly saw flashing red and blue lights behind him. “There’s no way they can catch a Mercedes,” he thought to himself and opened her up further.

The needle hit 90, 100… Then the reality of the situation hit him. “What am I doing?” he thought, and pulled over.

The cop came up to him, took his license without a word and examined it and the car. “It’s been a long day, this is the end of my shift and it’s Friday the 13th. I don’t feel like more paperwork, so if you can give me an excuse for your driving that I haven’t heard before, you can go.”

The guy thinks for a second and says, “Last week my wife ran off with a cop. I was afraid you were trying to give her back!”

“Have a nice weekend,” said the officer.

Ha, ha! No sensible man would want to spend time with or even see the woman he pledged to love forever! It’s funny because it’s true!

What do you think? Have I finally found an unobjectionable sex joke, or am I being too accommodating? Have you heard any good (or terrible!) jokes lately? Share your thoughts in the comments!

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Learn to Google, or I’ll do it for you!

February 3, 2009

Commenter Gnatalby linked to this application over at Shakesville yesterday, and I have to say, I am in love. My “learn to google” posts have long been my secret favourite kind of rant– I just get to indulge in so much self-righteousness! Alas, it can be a little tough to fine appropriate targets for my rage (post people are at least smart enough to do a cursory google search before spouting off), but you can bet, the next time I have the chance, I’ll leap on it!

You think there are a billion Eskimo words for snow? Let me google that for you.

Suspicious of the flag Obama flew while in Ohio? Let me google that for you!

Not sure of the difference between “thy” and “thine”? I’ll google that for you, too!

And you don’t even have to look hard at half of those results– for the “Eskimo” words one, you don’t even have to click any of the links to learn it’s rubbish, since it’s in the site summary of the second result!

Actually, if I can get a bit serious for a moment, this is something that really does bother me. I have grown up with the internet (literally– my parents, as computer scientists, were using email a decade before I was born) and it deeply saddens me how accustomed we have become to the idea that oh, of course people will be spouting rubbish, it’s the internet, why would anyone try to have a rational conversation on the internet? I always want to yell back, because that’s what it’s for!

The internet isn’t for porn. (That link is SFW. Mostly.) It’s not for urban legends and trolls and 4chan. It is an entirely new communication system whose implications I don’t think we’re really going to see for another generation. Guys, we can search books. Is that not revolutionary? I was studying over the weekend, and I had a question, and I knew the answer was somewhere in my textbook because I remembered reading it before. So I thought to myself, “ctrl f!” I didn’t think, “haha, wouldn’t it be great if I could search for it?” I literally thought the command, just as I would have if I had typed it. And then I looked at my open book in frustration for a good ten seconds before I sighed and went hunting around the index. If I’d had an ebook copy of the textbook (which I do for my other class), half an hour of rummaging through two hundred pages of content, chasing every vague lead? I could have done it in seconds.

And that’s just for a book. What if I want to know about the history of Muslim Spain? Well, this morning I did a couple google searches for broad terms like “muslim spain history,” opened all the promising results in new windows, read through them, did some new searches with more specific terms like “women muslim spain caliphate era” and so on. I had probably millions of pages available to me. True, a lot of them were blurbs for books or papers that I didn’t have full access to, but I do now know of their existence, despite the fact that none of their titles contain my keywords, because they were cited in the content that was available for free. I have no idea how people did research, let alone open-ended curiosity-driven research, before the internet, let alone before computers. All I can figure is that it involved a whole lot of inefficient wandering around libraries.

And I’m not even touching on Wikipedia, and blogs, and email. We can do so much that would have seemed impossible, even laughable, when my parents were my age. There are unimaginable quantities of information available, far more than any one mind could assimilate. My family keeps a laptop in the kitchen specifically so that any time one of us asks, “I wonder what’s in yogurt?” we can google it, and I love it. I love having so much knowledge out there, being able to talk to so many people. And I am in awe of it.

Which is why I just don’t understand people who treat the net as something trivial, something unworthy of respect. A place where you can lounge around in your dirty, faded grammar and old ideas, and it doesn’t matter because lowest common denominator, lol!

I don’t mean that everything has to be formal. Far from it! Half of what’s so valuable is going on in informal conversations, but the key is that they are conversations. The internet is a great resource and it should be to be used to the fullest. The assumption should be that people on the internet are looking to learn something, to connect with people or the world in a new way. And I sincerely believe that something new and amazing is being born, and that it’s by “learning to internet” that we can learn the most about ourselves. So it saddens me to see people who don’t even seem to be trying, people who parrot random chain mails and refuse to consider any arguments, people who go trolling but leave all their commas at home, people who laugh at those who are trying to expand themselves. Seriously, folks. Learn to google. You might learn something.


Geeks are Sexy

January 15, 2009

So, StumbleUpon brought me to the Cutest Star Wars Tusken Raider Doll Ever! (it didn’t have much competition, but this is still an impressive creation). In doing so, it brought me to GeeksAreSexy.net.

sexygeeks

My first thought was, “Damn right we are!”

My second thought was, how is this even possible? No, really, look: she’s sitting on the very edge of that chair…but it’s got wheels. Wouldn’t it slide out from under her? And there’s no way she’s supporting herself with her feet, they’re hardly even touching the floor! Plus, wouldn’t her back get sore, sitting ramrod-straight like that? And how can she even see the screen from that far away?! What geek would choose to sit like that?

Well, maybe she’s trying to get around the fact that with a skirt that short, and a leather seat, her thighs are going to get hot and sticky mighty quickly if she sat normally…so then the question is, what geek would choose to wear clothes that make true geekery impossible? I mean, there’s no way she can use the computer for more than ten minutes in that position, let alone settle in for the sort of eight-hour internet binge I can go on other people go on.

Oh, what’s that? She’s not really supposed to be a geek? She’s just eye candy for the real geeks, who are obviously men? The laptop is just an accessory to make her hotter to the intended audience? Oh, okay, that makes a lot more sense.


CollegeHumor.com: for that not-so-clean feeling.

January 14, 2009

I generally ignore any so-called “funny” videos that are hosted at CollegeHumor.com, but for some reason I started watching this one before I could come to my senses, and then I couldn’t look away.

The March of Shame. (Possible trigger warning in effect!)

UGH.

I have homework now (and last night it took me six hours) so that’s all I’m going to bother to say, except that you should keep an eye out for the woman’s deadened stare as she “takes a hot shower in an attempt to wash away her sins.” It’s almost like they’re aware that when someone gets extremely drunk and then “has sex,” it’s rape, especially since the implication is that they never would have agreed otherwise. I mean, these women look pretty clearly upset to me. As a college student, I certainly didn’t find it funny.

But I suppose I wasn’t the intended audience. I mean, the “College” half applies, but everyone knows “Humor” is a guy thing.


Facebook, “Facebook-stalking,” and privacy.

December 13, 2008

Facebook and I are “it’s complicated” together. Today I just want to talk about how it lets people get in touch with each other, but I promise there’s more to be said later.

All you need is someone’s name, and maybe their school or a vague idea of what they look like, and you have an excellent chance of being able to get in touch with them. This can be enormously useful, but it still somehow upsets me.

On the one hand, it enabled my quasi-stalker to stay in touch with me WAY longer than I wanted him to, since he could Facebook-message me. If I hadn’t forgotten to update my phone number when I got a new cell, he would’ve been able to call, me too– half his messages were to the effect of, “Why is your phone number wrong?”

But on the other hand, it is due to the magic of Facebook that I am about to recieve my LGBTerrific shirt! It seems that I forgot to update my PayPal shipping address, so the shirt got sent to the P.O. box that I had freshman year, which now belongs to Andrew (not his real name). Andrew, upon recieving a package with a name clearly not his own written on it, would probably be stuck asking people if they knew me, if it weren’t for Facebook. Maybe if he had the time, he’d put up some fliers. But it’s finals now, and I’m not on campus, so probably I’d eventually give up and buy a new shirt and he’d be stuck being a Ladies Medium LGBTerrific.

EXCEPT! Facebook DOES exist, so all he had to do was search for my name at our university, and ta-daah! He can contact me! Am I thrilled? YES! Am I terrified? YES!

This sort of thing is really a double-edged sword. Our university’s website has a similar thing, a directory, so that if you search for someone’s name it will give you their phone number and sometimes their campus address. This can be a hugely helpful feature– once, someone found my Arabic textbook in the library, looked me up on the university site, and called me to return it. Another time, I found a student’s ID card (which is necessary to get into buildings and buy things), looked up HIS number on the university site, and returned it to him.

It’s an amazing resource. I have nothing but wonderful anecdotes, problems that may never have been solvable if we didn’t have access to each other’s contact information. And yet, and yet. It just feels too dangerous.

I would love to be able to write under my own name, but I don’t. Partly it’s because it would be embarassing for certain members of my acquantance to come across these uncensored thoughts, given how much I censor myself around people in meatspace. But mostly I don’t use my name, especially my rather-distinctive last name, because I know that the name is all anyone would need to be able to find me. This is not a big blog. We’ve had exactly one troll. I’m probably not in any danger. But Kathy Sierra wasn’t even writing about feminist issues, she was just a woman, and I can’t forget that. This is not the safest use of my time. So far I’m under the radar, but if I ever get a bigger audience, I WILL get death threats and rape threats. That’s how it goes, with feminist blogs. And I don’t want to endanger myself outside of cyberspace as well, which means I mustn’t let my last name get connected with my pseudonym, and I mustn’t let people know what university I go to, because those facts are enough to find me.

And Facebook really enables some unfortunate behaviors. I mean, we even use the phrase “Facebook-stalking” for when you’re interested in someone and you follow everything their do on their Facebook. It’s usually just to satisfy idle curiosity– every now and then, I like to look at the names of everyone who identifies as “female, interested in women” just to reassure myself that I’m not the only one. But there really isn’t any way to prevent the much more sinister Facebook-stalking, the incessant, creepy messages, the constant reminders that “the phone number you posted doesn’t work,” the fear that if I RSVP for an event, he’ll show up there. It wasn’t “real” stalking (except when he figured out what restaurant I liked to go to to read, and started showing up there) but it WAS unsettling, and like the heroic rescue of my T-shirt, it wouldn’t have been possible without Facebook.

So, I love Facebook when I want to be found. It’s massively useful. But when I want to avoid someone– when I wanted my coworker/stalker to leave me alone– it makes me feel completely exposed.


ATTENTION, INTERNET! Re: RICKROLLING.

December 9, 2008

I secretly love being rickrolled. It’s funnier every time it happens! Maybe it would get annoying if it happened more often, but as it is, it’s like losing The Game– every time somebody reminds me that it exists, I am overjoyed at the ridiculousness of our darling interwebs.

Seriously, isn’t this one clever? And just poke around this site a bit and I guarantee that when you find it, it will make you smile. One April Fool’s Day, I was rickrolled by a webnovel I was reading– the chapter started out normally but then, sure enough, one character declared, “We’re no strangers to love!”

Honestly, it doesn’t take a Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade to impress me. Just “check out this vid doodz” will make me laugh if I’m not expecting Rick. Which means, alas, that rickrolls in this particular comments thread are less likely to make me grin, just because I’ll be expecting them. It also means that the rickrolls I’m sending to you now probably will be less delightful, because you didn’t stumble upon them at random– you already know what they are. (Though the execution is probably still worth noting.)

I think it must be the surprise that makes it so fun for me, and the fact that it’s ultimately not a very unpleasant surprise probably helped it spread; if it actually made people angry, it would be too mean-spirited to be fun outside of 4chan.

And oh man, is there anything better than meta-rickrolls? Just read this! And this! And THIS!

Internet, today I love you. But don’t get used to it.


NEWSFLASH: I’m female– on the internets!

September 23, 2008

This is another short, angry rant bit it’ll have to do for today.

The backstory: I’m doing a complete redesign of my fraternity’s website (it’s co-ed, I’m a brother, long story). I might be writing it from scratch, or, to make updating easier, I might to crafting a custom CSS theme to make a wordpress blog fit the bill. I’m taking a semester off (another long story) so I had to ask one of my brothers who is currently on-campus to get everyone’s opinions on certain matters. One big issue was who would be in charge of providing the content. People advocated for either a webmaster-is-god approach, a everyone-should-be-involved approach, or, my favourite, the middle-route where everyone gives content to the webmaster-god, who pastes it into the proper part of the site.

So far so good, right? Well, there was just one problem… several of my brothers were acting like “webmaster” was a gendered term. So they’d say, “Officers are irresponsible, make them go through the webmaster, and make him nag them for updates,” or “Webmaster controls all! He may request input from others.”

Now, it’s stupid at the best of times to just assume that “webmaster” means man. But these people already knew it was me. Which is just…all kinds of special.

I don’t want to overstate this– those were the only two comments that specified a gender for the webmaster; everyone else constructed their sentences so they could use “you” or “they.” But that’s still two out of eighteen, which is not good.

I mean, I love them anyway. They’re my brothers. I even love the brother who thinks I’m going to hell for being gay (and he loves me too). But right now, I’m annoyed with them.

And no worries– I’m not being too passive-aggressive about this. I sent one of those two brothers an email letting him know that I was not pleased.

I’m female. Even when I’m managing websites. It shouldn’t be hard.