I don't how many guys read this blog, probably none, but if there any of you out there, maybe you can answer me a question: what is it, exactly, that makes certain members of the male gender feel that yelling rude things at a girl is somehow effective, or even marginally okay? It's incomprehensible to me. I was walking back through the Quarter to my car about a half hour ago and this pack of six or so guys decided that now would be a good time to pick on the girl walking by herself. I'm not going to repeat what they said, but it definitely started with "Shake it" and got progressively cruder. For some reason, the fact that I felt the need to actually cross the street didn't seem to get the message across. Trust me, gentleman, if a girl takes affirmative steps to get the hell away from you, she doesn't want to talk to you. She wants you to shut the fuck up and go away. Really, has it ever worked? Because I doubt seriously that a girl has ever stopped, turned around and said "Take me home with you right now." I mean, I'm sure that any guy that feels the need to demoralize me in the middle of the street would be a really terrific lay, and probably incredibly generous in bed. I don't really know why this particular group pissed me off so much, probably because they were so obnoxiously persistent, going so far as to cross the street with me. I actually drove home sort of half hoping that I'd see them on the side of the street, so that I could jump the curb and break their legs, because any damage to my car and resulting jail time would probably be worth it. I just don't understand, because that sort of behavior doesn't make you look attractive, or cool, and anything else you might have been hoping to achieve, but instead just makes you look like a mysogenistic fucktard.
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Seriously, what the f***
Posted by Liza Jane at 1:32 PM
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3 comments:
As a guy (albeit one who wondered for about three weeks what he’d look like dressed up like Katie Holmes) I’d say the yelling stems from a deep-seated desire to one day achieve the impossible. Much like I’d like to be the first guy to say I’ve developed the power to fly and/or develop X-Ray vision (totally for airport security purposes, I swear), these poor saps would one day like to claim they were the first to successfully meet a girl after catcalling and drunkenly chasing her down the street. It’s science, really. I don’t know how hard you can argue with that, but a can of mace is always a good answer.
Thanks for the advice, by the way. I chickened out and went with the less drag (but surprisingly similarly effeminate) Sgt. Joe Friday of Dragnet. You’ll have to let me know when the next Tulane Law theme party is then, because eventually I will have to break out the Dawson’s Creek-themed costume.
I don't really hate Pittsburgh. I just thought this was way out of line. I hate editorials that complain without offering any real solutions (unless, of course, I wrote them ... then I think they're amazing.)
Next time that happens, I'm flying down to New Orleans and mark my words I will beat the snot out of each and every one of them.
Yours,
Jeremy.
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