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name: Tony
email: try@another.time
comments: It’s a shame that you have a seemingly bad attitude, for such a pretty girl should display a certain amount of femininity, but that’s just my old-school way of thinking. TTFN
send: send

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REMOTE_ADDR: 213.107.224.9
HTTP_USER_AGENT: Mozilla/4.0 (compatible; MSIE 6.0; Windows NT 5.1; .NET CLR 1.1.4322)

I’m going to go ahead and answer this here since the email address you posted is obviously fake.

Dear Tony (if that is your real name),

Ya know, being from the south I’m used to backhanded compliments but I have to admit, this one really takes the cake.

First off, I’m willing to bet you’re confusing me with my kiss my ass fairy which is in actuality a model for a Halloween costume - but I am a pretty girl with an occasional shitty attitude. What, exactly do you think the cute huffy hedgehog thing is about?

So you basically said I have a shitty attitude for such a pretty girl. Then something that hinted that being perpetually optimistic despite horrific circumstances is the epitome of femininity?

That’s the most amazingly unrealistic naive controlling attitude towards women I’ve heard in a while. And I’d like to point out, yet again, I grew up in the south I know weird fucked up attitudes towards women.

Dude, even June Cleaver farted and got pms. They just don’t show those episodes, ok? Women are human beings and, as such, we’re allowed to have all kinds of feelings and natural functions. I say if “the prez” is allowed to have verbal diarrhea all over the television I’m allowed to spew anger on my weblog whenever I see fit.

I just want to get this straight about what a woman in Tony-world is supposed to be:

- Women are not allowed to have leg, armpit, or pubic hair but the hair on top of our heads is to be perfectly coiffed with nary a hair out of place - even at high winds or during a bad depressive episode or sugar crash.

- Women are not allowed to wear anything other than flowery dresses cinched at the sixteen inch waist with an apron which, I have no doubt, is edged with rickrack.

- Women are required to wear heels, but they’re not allowed to be taller than a modest, boxy quarter to half inch heel. Or a wedge heel on those informal or vacuuming days.

- Women are not allowed to express an emotion other than sheer joy when her scary tuna and ham casserole comes out perfectly, her husband comes home at two am stinking of scotch with another woman’s lipstick on his collar, or when the dog takes an enormous shit in front of the tv.

I’ll try to keep that in mind.

I read a story once about an artist’s model who married the world’s most famous critic. This was the guy that decided what was or was not fashionable in their country. He was the authority on art, music, fashion, food, you name it. And she was supposed to be the world’s most beautiful, charming, alluring woman. They were the match of a century.

On their honeymoon night he became utterly nauseous at the sight of her pubic hair when she came to him in their marriage bed. These were not the days of a bikini wax nor were they the days when sculptors or painters would reflect anything other than the idealized beauty of the model’s face and form. Venus de Milo has no arms nor does she have any body hair whatsoever - including the partially exposed pubic area. Headless Winged Victory has no armpit hair under the severed arms, no hair on her exposed legs. This critic, while a complete authority on what is beautiful had never seen a real woman in the nude - just artists’ renderings of them sans a single strand of hair except those on her head.

Their marriage was never consummated. And the model ran off with an artist who had been secretly in love with her all along.

Moral of the story? Don’t marry the critics - marry the artists.

Thanks for your (stupid, boring, cliched, sad, old, tired, and really annoying) comment, there Tony. Unfortunately there’s already a person who holds the official title of “Tony the Bastard” in this household or I’d give it to you. How about “Tony the Fuck Pig”? I think that suits you nicely.

Thank you for calling.

(in case you’re worried, the scotch/lipstick thing didn’t happen here it was just a vivid example of the varying circumstances during which we’re supposed to keep happy brave-faced attitudes)