Friday's Lament

I do not want to stay out all night
I like my bed at home
My heels pinch and my spanx are tight
And the clubs are full of gnomes

I do not want to stay out all night
Where I have to wear a bra
But I'll drink a drink and eat a bite
And dance my poor feet raw

I do not want to stay out all night
But I'll bear it with a grin
Because even while I seethe with spite
I'd still whine if I had to stay in

Don't say it unless you mean it

Comedy is subjective.   What is considered taboo is in the eye of the beholder, and humour is often used to gain access to something that is difficult to get your mind around.   Sometimes it’s hard to know what will be deemed a generally odious comment or whether I am more sensitive to a particular issue.  The distinction becomes even trickier when I have PMS.

I love twitter.  Most of the people that I follow are comedians and comedy writers, overall funny people that tell me jokes for free all day and night and it is by far my favourite distraction.   I also follow a few musicians and other celebrities that I have a particular interest in, for whatever reason. (Hi, @BostonRob!)

I enjoy Rainn Wilson on The Office and I thought that The Rocker was adorable.   I followed him because I was interested in his Soul Pancake website, but never found his twitter jokes to be funny, timely or well crafted.  So when I read this:

“If I were ever date raped I would want it to be to “Whole Lotta Love” by Led Zeppelin.“

I registered that I found it in poor taste, and also that I didn’t think it was funny.   I wasn’t offended.   I just thought it was a bad joke in poor taste from a guy that I didn’t expect better from.  I didn’t even think about it until Joshua Malina brought it up the next morning, wondering where Rainn’s apology was.  I knew what he was referring to immediately. 

Soon enough, the apology came.  This time I was offended:

“Apparently my poorly conceived date-rape tweet upset a lot of folks. Not a good topic to joke about. Sorry & won't do that again.”

That first line sounds like a sigh and an eye roll to me.  If I was at all distraught or contrite over the potentially offensive comment that I made to nearly three million followers I would consider wording my apology carefully.  And I am not offended by the idea that he was careless with his apology.  I am offended because I believe that he wasn’t.   This translates to “I’m sorry if you didn’t think my joke was funny” and I’d rather he just said that than this passive aggressive teenage attempt at getting out of a lecture. 

Here is a sample of the @ replies attached to the apology:

@SissySilverwood: @rainnwilson didnt see it but people r way to sensitive these days! i was date raped, whatever, moved on!

@jimelliot1: @rainnwilson I thought it was hilarious don't let the squeamish masses stop you from being funny

@AliM1986: @rainnwilson Fuck these overly sensitive cunts. That was funny.

@steven91C: @rainnwilson You're an actor and comedian, Rainn... The Dice Man and Richard Pryor gained fame for their fearless humor! Legends man!

@savvystark: @rainnwilson that shit was funny. Bitches be trippin.

@MEK215: Kudos to @rainnwilson for the apology. He does a lot of good work & I'd hate to see that overshadowed by one bad joke.

@Staceface11: @rainnwilson You should have known better in the first place but thank you for acknowledging you were wrong and apologizing.

@Potpixie82:  @rainnwilson I laughed right out loud & retweeted it! Twitter is supposed to be fun and relaxed. People are to damn serious!

@moose5050: @rainnwilson don't b a pussy say what you want this America not communist china

@softenthesilenc: @rainnwilson Fuck em'. Who doesn't love a good date rape tweet every once in a while?

@CAPITAL_CED: @rainnwilson theres always room for a lil date rape <3

@superman8907: @rainnwilson rape is such a strong word. I prefer "snuggle struggle."

@ThatRyanGrace: @rainnwilson it's not rape if you say "Suprise!"

When I read Juiced by Jose Canseco, it became clear to me that it is not an athlete’s responsibility to act as a role model.  In Canseco’s circumstance, all he had to do was be good at baseball.  Publicly, Rainn Wilson is an actor and a director and in my estimation, he is gifted in his craft.   I am by no means saying that Rainn Wilson should be cognizant of how his words can inspire and influence the people that read them.   He does not have to answer to me, Josh Malina or anybody else for what he deems comedic. 

But he did answer.  He made the lamest apology possible.  By saying “Not a good topic to joke about.”  rather than acknowledging why people might be offended by a joke about date rape, it comes off as him telling us that people do not know how to enjoy a joke about date rape.

And what is the response?  People are overwhelmingly joking about date rape.  I can’t know whether Rainn Wilson feels mortified or validated by the product of his apology.  He deleted the offending tweet.  I think he should do one step better and delete his bullshit apology, too. 

(The tweets that I posted are a sample in the order they appeared in the feed.  I did not manipulate them to weed ones the worst out.)

Hershey's Kiss Crown and Sash

Fuck Valentine’s Day

This time of year the city is decorated in pinks and reds, all of the stores are full of cutesy stuffed animals and chocolate and cinnamon flavoured heart shaped things and all of the TV shows I watch are doing special episodes with advertisements embedded within these special episodes all conspiring to remind me that I am single.  It is likely that this blanket romancevertising is not targeted at me. It is meant for people that find themselves in the fortunate position of being the target of Cupid’s arrow and VISA’s thrall, but at the same time it all serves to let me know that this is something that I do not have access to at the moment.  Now, I am normally a sucker for all things sappy and manipulative, but when it comes to Valentine’s Day, I don’t even care.  I’m not desperate for a date this year.   I’d be happy to have somebody special to spend it with, but absent that, I don’t need the validation of having celebrated the day just so that I can say that I did.  I was cured of this desire years ago. 

I met a guy at a friend’s house.  He was her boyfriend’s cousin, I only talked to him for a minute or two and when he asked my friend for my number I told her to give it to him.  He was a bit younger than I was, but I wasn’t seeing anybody and he was cute.   It was very near Valentine’s Day, so when he asked me out I suggested we make our first date that night.  I was extremely pleased with myself for being so proactive.   I wasn’t going to sit around sulking this year!  He asked me what I wanted to do, and I told him to surprise me. 

All day I hummed and thrived, grooving on the fact that I was in.  I was accessing this sappy manipulative celebration of showy excess and proving to the world that I was NOT a love pariah!  When the evening arrived, I met him outside of my building.  He had brought me a rose and got out of the car to open my door for me.  Okay, it was a gas station rose, but I found the gesture endearing.   He got back into the car and began to drive.

“Where are we going?”  I asked sweetly.

“I made us a reservation at a hotel.”  He answered, smiling. 

I laughed.  “No.  Really.  Where are we going?”

He pointed toward the backseat.  “Really.   I bought champagne and lotion.  It’ll be nice.  We can chill, have a drink.  I’ll rub ya down.”  (If you can imagine him saying “rub ya down” in a Jamaican accent it can only increase your appreciation of that sentiment.)

On the floor of the backseat there was indeed lotion and a bottle of inexpensive sparkling wine.  Keep in mind, this was our first date. 

“We are not going to a hotel,”  I told him.  “Think of something else.”

We ended up seeing a terrible horror film and then going for a very uncomfortable drink after, uncomfortable because he spent the entire time begging me to come upstairs to my apartment while I made polite excuse after polite excuse about my roommate being asleep, it being a mess, anything I could think of to keep the mood light.  I probably should have just told him to fuck off, and I have often wondered why I didn’t.  He became surlier with every refusal and by the time we left the bar an hour later he was just angry. 

He got in his car and I took off running against the wind, across the street toward my apartment.  I had just made the sidewalk when I heard him calling me back over.  Reluctantly, I made my way back. 

Sitting in his car with the door cracked open, he said “Here.  You forgot your flower.”  He shoved the rose up at me, and slammed the door shut. 

Forcing romance is a sucker’s game.  I can be miserable about being single all year round, but at Valentine’s Day I celebrate it.  Instead of reminding me that I am alone, I am reminded that being alone is better than being with an asshole.  And I don’t even have to share my heart shaped candy.