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Apr. 18th, 2005 09:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wildflowersoulThank god for Patriot's Day, this weekend came and smacked me upside the head. Having this day off is so nice.
Friday night and all day Saturday I volunteered for Beer Summit. Come inside the cut for
I am a third wave feminist. I have a big problem with the belief that my wearing tight or low-cut shirts means I'm "asking for it" when dirty, dirty old men make lewd comments to me. Or the unfortunate young man upon whom I rained an afternoon's worth of frustration when I yelled at him and told him to go away. I'm a New England girl, I don't even like talking to strangers who mean well, let alone jerks who can't keep their filthy mouths closed. Honestly, I don't care if men stare at my chest, I really am so oblivious that I don't notice it. But it crosses a line when they say something to me. That is rude and uncool. I will not be shamed into thinking I deserve it just because of the clothes I wear. All feminist theory aside, it was so bad that I donned a comicly huge t-shirt for most of the night Sat. I fear I would have jumped across the table and throttled any other guys who said anything beyond "beer good" to me.
For the record, it is truly difficult for me to buy clothes. Having a moderately sized bosom means there are a)shirts I can't wear, b)shirts that look like circus tents on me, and c)shirts that fit just right but highlight my, um, assets. Button down shirts look silly on me, and most of my work clothes fall into the circus tent category, they fit over my chest and then fall in a straight line to my waist, obscuring any hint of my girlish figure. I grow weary of looking like Frumpitor the Librarian for 35 hours a week, so when I'm not working, I'd rather take my chances with the tight fitting shirts that might *gasp* show some boobage. Don't even get me started on pants. I wear skirts most of the time because they don't make pants for shorties like me at H&M.
So yeah, Beer Summit on Sat. afternoon was a Supreme Jerk Fest. The Saturday night crowd was so nice, though. I saw some Batesies;![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
phlosphr, I talked to one of the Barlow twins, but I don't know which one. Some chick propositioned me for a bottle of vodka. If you're drunk enough to proposition someone for vodka, you are definitely too drunk to be given vodka.
So that was Beer Summit. I'm done pulling the Iron Man for that, though. I'll be happy to volunteer for a session or two (especially at Oktoberfest, since that involves tips), but I'm not sacrificing a weekend to it anymore.
Yesterday I had a lovely brunch withtenillypo, mrs_muffin, and aquarianna6.
Today I'm going to do groceries, clean the apartment, try to hire a maid, and hang out with the bunnies. Man, that "hire a maid" part sounds so bourgeois.
Friday night and all day Saturday I volunteered for Beer Summit. Come inside the cut for
I am a third wave feminist. I have a big problem with the belief that my wearing tight or low-cut shirts means I'm "asking for it" when dirty, dirty old men make lewd comments to me. Or the unfortunate young man upon whom I rained an afternoon's worth of frustration when I yelled at him and told him to go away. I'm a New England girl, I don't even like talking to strangers who mean well, let alone jerks who can't keep their filthy mouths closed. Honestly, I don't care if men stare at my chest, I really am so oblivious that I don't notice it. But it crosses a line when they say something to me. That is rude and uncool. I will not be shamed into thinking I deserve it just because of the clothes I wear. All feminist theory aside, it was so bad that I donned a comicly huge t-shirt for most of the night Sat. I fear I would have jumped across the table and throttled any other guys who said anything beyond "beer good" to me.
For the record, it is truly difficult for me to buy clothes. Having a moderately sized bosom means there are a)shirts I can't wear, b)shirts that look like circus tents on me, and c)shirts that fit just right but highlight my, um, assets. Button down shirts look silly on me, and most of my work clothes fall into the circus tent category, they fit over my chest and then fall in a straight line to my waist, obscuring any hint of my girlish figure. I grow weary of looking like Frumpitor the Librarian for 35 hours a week, so when I'm not working, I'd rather take my chances with the tight fitting shirts that might *gasp* show some boobage. Don't even get me started on pants. I wear skirts most of the time because they don't make pants for shorties like me at H&M.
So yeah, Beer Summit on Sat. afternoon was a Supreme Jerk Fest. The Saturday night crowd was so nice, though. I saw some Batesies;
phlosphr, I talked to one of the Barlow twins, but I don't know which one. Some chick propositioned me for a bottle of vodka. If you're drunk enough to proposition someone for vodka, you are definitely too drunk to be given vodka. So that was Beer Summit. I'm done pulling the Iron Man for that, though. I'll be happy to volunteer for a session or two (especially at Oktoberfest, since that involves tips), but I'm not sacrificing a weekend to it anymore.
Yesterday I had a lovely brunch with
tenillypo, mrs_muffin, and aquarianna6. Today I'm going to do groceries, clean the apartment, try to hire a maid, and hang out with the bunnies. Man, that "hire a maid" part sounds so bourgeois.
