It occurred to me while I was watching my 10th episode of 30 Rock the other day, that I am in the middle of a very specific women’s rights movement.
And I was instantly filled with a desire to take up my metaphorical picket sign and take a stand.
From my bed.
On my computer.
…But still. Times change.
We already got the whole voting during elections (yawn), owning land (whatever) , being able to marry without a cow dowry (ok, this I support), get out of the kitchen into the workforce (or for me.. the other way around) thing out of the way . None of this is not the kind of women’s right movement I am speaking of.
So… what is it?
Ok. Here goes.
For pretty much forever, I felt like women entertainers have fallen into two distinct categories. Either you were pretty… or you were funny. And there’s been very little to no combination of the two. If you were funny, you were probably not sexy. And if you were sexy, you were probably not funny. Sure, there have been entertainers who’ve pushed the limit on this but as a general rule, this was the way of the world.
DUN DUN DUN.
LADIES (and gentlemen I guess? But let’s be real when I say that you probably stopped reading after I didn’t offer to make you a ham sandwich): We are currently being ushered into a new type of sexual revolution. Is this even the right terminology? Does that even make sense? I’m writing by the seat of my pants here I’m just so inspired. Too much coffee. Yikes.
I’m talking about the funny, pretty girl. I’m talking about the Tina Feys, Emma Stones, Kristen Bells, Chelsea Handlers and Kristen Wiigs of the world. The funny girls who wrote Mean Girls and Bridesmaids. They aren’t afraid to make people laugh. To offend. To be witty and smart and sexy at the same time. Who knew you could make people laugh without wearing cargo shorts (blechhhh) and some butch haircut? Even Ellen (GOD BLESS HER), as a outwardly lesbian comedian looks LIKE A GIRL (and dare I say, fierce?) and still is hysterical! Imagine that!
We don’t have to look like a dude to make people laugh.
And while I don’t think we’re there quite yet, I think I’ve stumbled on something. And maybe it’s just me when I say I wish I knew that Megan Fox had a sense of humor. I think I’d like her considerably more.
…Probably not. But I would honestly really try.
I think that’s legitimately one of the coolest things I’ve ever thought of. My brain literally did cartwheels thinking about it. This is so much cooler than being able to vote. I kind of hate voting. I would much rather have really witty Victoria’s Secret models in society than elect another transvestite-molesting caucasian male congressman into office.
Politics are whatever.
I vote for laughter.
Maybe that’s just me.
In other news..
*getting off of my soap box*
life back on the nanny ranch is going swimmingly…. For the most part. We’ve had a couple potholes in our journey to Sound of Music tranquility involving shirt-folding quality (I seriously can’t get away from folding apparently, read: how shirts ruined my life in the past) and a slight debacle with mopping which won’t be spoken of but instead just remembered with fearful nostalgia. However, for the most part, I feel like I am rolling with the punches like a boxing weight champ, or a heavy-weight American Mary Poppins. Mostly, I am trying to monopolize on the idea of compromise. For instance, I have now started something that I will shamefully refer to as “secret microwaving.” It’s actually a pretty simple concept in that the fact that this family doesn’t have a microwave is slowly eating away at my efficiency. Basic logic: Less pots and pans used for cooking, less clean up for me. Less clean-up for me, more time to do other things.
So in the name of multi-tasking, I have begun playing a little game entitled: “Can Meg get away with reheating things for the kids in the microwave in her room?” So far the answer is YES.
To me, it seems senseless to dirty another pot, when I can just reheat dinner from the previous night in my room for the kids lunches. It takes 30 seconds and half the amount of clean-up. And I know that they fear the electro-magnetic rays that enter their food when microwaved. I get that. But I mean come on, these are the same people who don’t make their kids wear a helmet on a street where people drive 45 in a 25 mile zone and rarely stop for stop signs. In the famous words of Ron Weasley:
” They need to sort out their priorities.”
I know this will eventually probably get me in trouble. I can already hear the phone call with my mom. But for now… let me play this game. Cheap thrills ok? Electromagnetic rays coming right up! America: F*ck Yeah.
I’m actually really trying to go back to 1950 for this family. Really. I am. I am trying to make cooking into a relaxing, enjoyable process. But for me, the relaxing, enjoyable part of cooking is the eating part. I’m too concerned with getting shit all over the trillion dollar stove to enjoy the process itself. If something overflows, something inside of me dies. I have become new close and personal friends with Clorox and Comet products. I fight an eternal daily battle with their dishwasher, which though originally promoted to me as a “highly-efficient european appliance” as far as I’m concerned should be set immediatly on fire. Or they should get their money back like now. Because unless you pre-wash everything, nothing gets clean in that thing. It’s evil. And then it’s my fault. And because of this, I’m absolutely convinced it’s out to get me.
Anyway, enough complaining about kitchen appliances like a middle-aged, sexually frustrated housewife. If that’s my biggest problem, I think things are going pretty well!
In closing, I have an exciting announcement. I have decided to start writing regularly for the blog girlsintheir20s.com. It won’t be live again for about another week, as they do some renovations, and though I am definitely going to keep writing here, I thought I’d give you all a chance to check out my first steps to getting published. It’s only a matter of time before I win a pulitzer right?!
Actually, I don’t think they give out pulitzers for complaining about dishwashers. It’s fine. We’ll get there.
Hey, it’s hump day! Do what you all do best.
..laugh, of course.