iPod R.I.P.

Erin is back!, originally uploaded by Parvati the Witch.

I recieved my iPod in May 2005 as a Graduation gift from my dad. It was a 30 GB iPhoto. On the back my brother had it inscribed with this "Shannon Morley - Awesomeness From on High" He originally wanted to write Immovable Object on mine and Irresistable Force on Megan's. I thought that calling me Immovable Object was just another fat joke so Awesomeness it was. I digress. My iPod died and this old picture does a good job of showing off my sad face. I took it to the Apple store and they said there was nothing they could do for my little guy. I looked into the clerk's eyes, "Nothing?" "Nothing," he replied.

Bummer.



In other news - I love dresses! I wish I had a new dress everyday. I would wake up and one would just magically appear hanging all fancifull on the outside of my closet with a bow around it. Like in Alfonso Cuaron's A Little Princess.

What About the Lost Girls?

Click on the picture above. Now, look closely at her left leg. May God bless Tori Amos and the menstrual blood running down her leg. God bless her.

Tori instantly became a hero of mine when I first discovered her. It is comforting that heroes still exist. Not only does she continue to create provocative and hopeful music ranging in topic from masturbation, road trips, to God; she had the courage to do something about her fans’ reaction to that music. http://www.rainn.org/
Her sexually charged and Christian-imagery infused music provided a much-needed outlet for the repressive corridors in my all-girls Catholic high school. She helped to take the shame and promise of eternal damnation out of sexual expression. This was nice to have.

This picture got me thinking about some things. I have had lots of heated debates in the past few weeks about how to address the various woes in New Orleans. Of course, I think that if there is no land to stand on then what is the point of fighting the rest. We need to start aggressively fixing what the American government did to our coasts. Check my sister’s Blog Red Beans and Lice to learn more.

As for the out of control violence and rampant stupidity that plagues the city streets not just in New Orleans, but also all across America. I think we are forgetting a key demographic. We keep talking about the gun toting, sexually aggressive Lost Boys. They need fathers. They need guidance. I agree with that. But, you know what they need even more? They need their female peers to tell them to “Fuck off.” It is time to save the Lost Girls.

A curious demonstration of female power recently took place in Colombia:
http://www.mg.co.za/articlePage.aspx?articleid=283923&area=/breaking_news/breaking_news__international_news/

But, I don’t think a sex strike is the only way to go.

To quote a petition from Planned Parenthood, “One billion dollars has been wasted on abstinence-only education, which denies young people real information about how to prevent pregnancy and sexually transmitted infections, including AIDS.”

It is time to face head-on with the realities of the world we live in. Sex is a really cheap form of entertainment and when you don’t buy condoms, its supa cheap. Also when you don’t have a family that cares about you, lots of girls think, why don’t I just make my own? Babies are easy to make and mine will love me unconditionally. And one final thing that is true of every person in love – the belief that they can change him and their love will last forever. It is easy to get duped by the smooth talking gentleman, at any age.

We have established that we aren’t going to stop people from doing the horizontal tango. It is not going to happen, never could, and we never will. So lets stop investing billions of dollars in unicorns and fairies.

If you honestly want to fix the issues of poverty and violence - make birth control, emergency contraception, and sex education more readily available to the lost girls. Lets show the lost girls they have more to offer the world than their ability to reproduce. Invest in your local Planned Parenthood. And for the love of women not getting cervical cancer, support legislation, which makes the new vaccine against HPV, Gardasil, a mandatory vaccine for young girls. I am just salty that there are parents out there who think cervical cancer is a good lesson learned against pre-marital sex.

For those of you that think sexually transmitted infections only happen to promiscuous bad people, consider this, “By age 50, at least 80 percent of women will have acquired genital HPV infection. About 6.2 million Americans get a new genital HPV infection each year.” According to this statistic, eighty percent of American women are sluts.

Let us lift the veil from our eyes. Let us live in this world. Let us enjoy one of the greatest gifts ever to be given from on high responsibly and without shame. Let us give girls more options than abstinence or parenthood.

Sign these petitions:
http://www.ppaction.org/campaign/keroackpetition2/
http://www.ppaction.org/campaign/prevention_first2

Donate to your local Planned Parenthood!
http://www.plannedparenthood.org/get-involved/donate.htm

Party till you puke Purple, Green, and Gold

Warren Easton Marchers, originally uploaded by Juxtaposedface.


Boobs, beer, and maybe some Blow are things that come to mind when outsiders think of Mardi Gras in New Orleans. And they would not be wrong in their assessment of my fair city’s last brew-ha before the season of Lent. There is plenty of Hedonism and Decadence to be had. But, Mardi Gras is not just a time to roll out the puke and piss soaked carpet of Party for tourists. It is, like any holiday, a time for kids.

Hear me out. Mardi Gras in many ways, is like Christmas or Halloween. In classrooms all across Louisiana you get to eat King Cake every Friday afternoon from the Epiphany till Mardi Gras. Kids and teachers alike fell victim to airway blockage when our Lord and savior appeared in the form of a plastic baby Jesus. When parade week literally rolls into town, families converge upon Veterans Highway or St. Charles Avenue. They lay out tarps and blankets staking a claim on coveted Neutral Ground land. People set up grills, kegs, couches, tents, and tow along ice chests full of beer, cokes, and insanely delectable food.



Mardi Gras day meant eating cold Popeye’s chicken all day long and sneaking beer. It meant "Iko Iko" by the Dixie Cups and Professor Longhair on the radio. It meant dressing up in costumes. It meant threateningly and pleadingly shouting, “Throw me something mister!” from atop a Mardi Gras ladder that caused splinters and threatened to topple every time you reached too far for a bead. It meant wrestling with other kids for prized beads, cups, stuffed animals and mastering your Doubloon stomp. It meant putting frilly panties and garters over your pants, spraying passer-bys with silly string, and smoking fake cigarettes. It meant dancing to marching band after marching band. It meant having no place to pee. Did I mention the cold chicken?

There are many nuances to this holiday that imbue a New Orleanian with a deep understanding of how to properly party till you puke. So, when strangers and friends alike who have never partaken in these festivities incredulously ask, “Your parents let you go to Mardi Gras when you were little?” remember this one thing and that is growing up in the Puritanical Mid-West sucks.

That being said, Mardi Gras was a wholesome, good time this year. On Mardi Gras day I was drunk by noon and had a hangover at 4 in the afternoon after imbibing several Hurricane Katrina Daiquiris. Tacky? Maybe. Delicious? Undeniably.

Now to gear up for Lent!