why you shouldn’t pat me on the head

I was walking around SXSW Interactive feeling pretty good about myself and my site, meeting great people and finding some wonderful sites out there–

maura.com 

girlwonder.com 

0sil8 

flaunt

And then I go down to the trade show area and I decide to play around on a Mac, since I’ve never had the opportunity to see my page through one, since I work for a competitor…

and my page looks absolutely terrible!

Why didn’t any of you tell me you have to wait around for a minute and a half to see the main page? That’s crazy! I’d never want that to happen. Dammit. I feel like the composer on Sesame Street just banging my head into the keyboard– “Now I’ll never get it! Never!”

So, I guess Squishy 2.0.1 will be out shortly to fix all of those problems. Going to the festival has really peaked my interest in design and layouts and navigation… so I’m hoping to find a way to present this site quickly and easily and–

I’m talking about the web. Blah. No more. Just wanted to say that I apologize that this site has looked like crap for you Mac users. Just take a look on an NT if you get the chance, so you know why I once thought it was a good site.

Last night I watched the penis show on HBO. If you have cable, you know what I’m talking about. The penis show. If you get the chance to watch, it’s very interesting to note how the guys talk about their penises much differently when they are with a group of almost-naked guys and when they are by themselves. “Women” become “girls.” “Sex” or “making love” becomes “fucking” or “getting my groove on.” I cannot imagine how stupid I would be sitting in a group of naked women talking to a camera that is filming for HBO. We were watching one man talk about how he doesn’t really care if a woman is being pleasured or not when he is having sex– of course he “doesn’t have to worry about it,” since he’s a love master, you realize– but that since he’s “young, dumb and full of cum” it really doesn’t matter now. He’s too young to have any sort of responsibility. Eric said, “I bet he doesn’t get a lot of girls.”

“He sure won’t anymore,” I said.

And I guess if you agree to being filmed in front of millions of people talking about masturbating and what you do with your penis, you end up putting up some sort of macho front, because you have to psyche yourself into doing this. And he’s doing it with his frat brothers, so you know the whole thing was some sort of, “You’re not pussing out, are you?” kind of thing where the next thing they knew they were all sitting in a semi-circle in their matching plaid boxers talking about banging chicks.

Penises and power.

I was watching the show, and some of the men disrobed and others didn’t. I started yelling at the screen, “Show me your dick!” Eric just looked at me.

“This show isn’t very sexy.”

“Did you think it would be?” I asked. I guess he was hoping for more stories about sexual conquests and not just guys sitting around talking about why they like their penis.

“You don’t think this is sexy, do you?” he asked me.

“Well… no,” I replied. “Not really sexy, but like you I like to know what the enemy is thinking.”

“I’m being serious.”

“I don’t think this is sexy, no. But it’s a documentary. I’m not looking for hot bods.”

And Eric left to go read a book.

At the conference this afternoon I walked over to a trade booth that was hyping a company here in town. They were hiring, so I picked up their list of available jobs. The man at the booth talked mostly to my friend, who was interested in getting space donated for her non-profit community organization. I handed the man my resume. “Good girl,” he said.

I bit my lip and put my face down so he couldn’t see my sneer. My friend thanked me for keeping my mouth shut, since she does want the free space, but I don’t think I’ll be working for their company any time soon.

“Good girl?” I mean, who says that, really? I walk out of my women-on-the-net seminar to a man who pats me on the head for remembering to bring my resume to a fucking trade show? What am I, a moron? “Gee, mister, I’d really like to work for you, but I’m not even sure how to spell html, much less type whole sentences in it! If only someone like you would give me a job answering the telephone. Then I could route their problems to the real men that can fix things. I know how to talk on the phone, I used to do it when I was supposed to be studying!”

Good girl. I’m so pissed off.

And I’m pissed off I didn’t do anything. I should have taken my resume back. I should have said, “Down, boy” or something. I should have given him a round house kick to the nards. I’m not a puppy. I don’t want that kind of praise.

Good girl.

Eat me.