My life had stood--a loaded Gun--

It's February and the greatest weakness of my humanity has hit the markets, rendering me helpless...

Cadbury Creme Eggs.

I love them. I adore them. Whenever I see them, I buy them. Half the reason I worked in the Gee my senior year was to eat Cadbury Creme Eggs for free. It's not so financially expedient any longer, but that doesn't matter. In the least. I have half a dozen mini-Creme Eggs in my pantry (because I couldn't find the big ones) and now that I did find the big ones, I have those in my pantry too.

It's like sucking eggggssesssss, only (since I've never actually done that but can imagine its grossness) much better. Gollum might have turned out better if his grandmother had taught him to suck the insides out of Cadbury eggs.

So. Okay. The past two weeks have been ridiculous, and I've been working a lot (not complaining, I'm expensive and I need the hours), so I haven't had time to write everything down on a blog. Get ready...

For G and M: I think we should go to the Chicago show. We can take the train there, see the show, eat dinner, stalk the band, and take the train home. No sweat. (Unless you have other plans, but if the decision is up to me, that's it. Chicago is a way cool city and I haven't been there in forever.) There, that's the tie-in to the funness of William Had a Headache Day and its ensuing insanity. I'm so excited.

Now. (Drrrrrrrrrum roll.) The amatear comedy show at Legends. My friends, if you follow my roommate and our friend's blogs, you have already seen two facets of this story. I would like to add a third.

Thursday, February 10, a day like any other. I was excited to attend a stand-up comedy show at Notre Dame's Legends (which wasn't as scary as it looks from the outside), got off work a few minutes early, and showed up in time to grab a table for myself, M, and G. A philosophy student whom we all know and trust usually runs these shows, and we were hoping he would make an appearance, as we had never heard his routines and he is, in person at least, quite funny.

Unfortunately the show consisted entirely of the most misogynist bullshit I have ever had the misfortune to hear. It started out all right, a few anti-woman cracks, the usual locker room sort, but I thought, maybe that's the exception, hopefully it gets better. No. The only good comedian in the act was a freshman girl who refrained from making gender jokes at all. The rest were pissant athletes whose only knowledge of "woman" is what her vagina can do for his penis. We were repeatedly told by these paragons of male respectability to "stop whining about your problems and go starve yourselves or whatever it is you do," to "be considerate and stay awake for sex after a date or we'll slip GHB in your drink," and to remember that "you're not popular, you're just whores." They kept up a constant flow of anal and oral sex jokes, as well as a litany of masturbation references that I would attribute to sixth grade snickering at the lunch table. One young man bragged about the thrill of flatulating in a woman's face. Altogether it was a thorough and leisurely tour of the junkyard of human morals and creativity.

We walked out. Booing (according to M I sound like a moose), shouting "oh my GOD," and talking loudly during the acts weren't enough. We stood in the foyer and fumed. I was furious -- with society at large for permitting people to grow up with these neolithic attitudes, with Peter (whom I've credited with impeccable taste) for heading up the event, with the Bam-Bam jackasses whose basic, socially supported drive is to club women over the heads and drag them off to a cave for a quick fuck (sorry, Mom), with the stupid, deluded college girls who laughed their heads off right along with the guys in the audience not even realizing they should be standing up for something better.

It was tragic. Infuriating. But we managed to get our own back a little bit. As the show ended and the audience poured out and the "comedians" joined them in the foyer to be fawned over by the abovementioned college girls, I yanked my hand from my coat pocket and two pantiliners fell out. I had shoved them there a few days previously as I ran out the door late for work, and had forgotten them. I picked them up slowly, hoping someone would notice both the pantiliners and my lack of embarrassment, and G took one and stuck it on her forehead where it looked like a misplaced eye mask. M left in disgust for the bathroom and G and I stood looking at the last pantiliner and pondering what to do with it. We turned. A beam of light from heaven fell shining on the broad shoulders of the tallest, most misogynistic asshole of them all. Genius struck.

Armed with one pantiliner each, G and I worked our way through the crowd and bumped against the athlete whose toilet-and-whore jokes were earning him plenty of kisses, and plastered the pantiliners to his long swimmer's back. On our way back to the door, we peeked over our shoulders and beheld them shining in white glory on his black jacket. M joined us and we made a fast exit, howling like monkeys; through the glass we saw someone peeling them off and handing them to him, and his corresponding look of astonishment.

I hope it ruined his night. I hope I have pantiliners handy more often. It could be a signature, like Zorro's famous "Z." We need a new superhero: Mad Maxi. Sexists beware.

Seriously. That lineup was the perfect picture of everything that's wrong with society today. Or human nature in general. How do women let these attitudes endure in their presence? Why can men get away with it?

This has nothing to do with the majority of guys that I know. The majority of guys that I know are nice. But where do these other morons come from? And why do they have the loudest voice in society?

Snarl.