Wednesday, July 29, 2009
So, my friend "Tyson" has shared an article weblink with my friend "Monty" via Facebook - ergo, sharing it with all of their mutal friends as it gets posted on their newsfeed. Including mine. The article?
Russian Hairdresser Kidnaps Robber, Rapes him for Three Days, illustrated with some gag BDSM picture.
The story is actually a true one I remember from some months ago, wherein a Russian hairdresser/martial artist subdued a would-be robber at her salon, then tied him up in the back room, held him captive and raped him. For three days.
Tyson added a comment to the article link: "Aside from the general hilarity of the story, doesn't that [picture] look kinda like Mr K?"
Oh, the hilarity of rape!
I'm not even going to touch that one - these guys, while pleasant enough to work with back in the day, are very very typical college boys with the old "politically incorrect" (or as I call it, "arseholish") sense of humour.
I already get sad when I see the mockery and downright contempt male victims of sexual assault face. Prison rape! Gay guy hitting on straight guy! Being some butchy woman's bitch! Hahaha! Non-manly men are teh funny!
I get doubly sad when it pops up in my Facebook feed.
Yes, sexual assault happens to men too. Sometimes at the hands of women. I guess I just don't have much of a sense of humour about it.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Don’t you hate it when you’re walking home with a couple, and that couple have just had a fight, and so you’re walking home smack in the middle of huffy awkward silence?
Well that’s what I was trying to avoid Saturday night with Kuya and Charm. After karaoke I ran ahead on
So us gals were both steaming along, angry-drunk, her pissed off with Kuya and me pissed off in general, and this group of five or six guys walk past. One stops to remark, “You ladies both look beautiful tonight! Especially the one in the pink!”
Charm and I exchanged glances. Both of us were wearing black.
Shrugging, we continued walking, trying to quickly overtake the stumbling group, but alas the clicking of our heels gave away our gendered presence. One turned around, waving an unlit cigarette and slurring, “Hey, you girls have a light?”
Charm, who was actually taking a drag from her own cigarette, glanced at him with a straight face and goes, “… No.”
I would have laughed if I wasn’t already boiling with alcohol-induced rage, and we both quickened our pace. Skirting over
“Oh, c’mon… do you have a light? Give us a light, c’mon…. hey, hey, can you tell me a secret?”
We waked faster, trying to lose him with the old ‘pretend you can’t hear them’ routine but he would not let up. At this stage I’d started muttering to myself, so Charm chose to engage with our pursuer.
“No, I don’t have a lighter, there’s a 7-eleven nearby, try there.”
“But um… I don’t have any money.”
“I don’t have any money either.”
We walked faster. He followed.
“Can I just light my cigarette off yours?”
Finally Charm grudgingly obliged, slowing down to hand him her cigarette, and Kuya – who had hitherto been following us a hundred metres back ‘cos he was still shitty with Charm – chose that moment to play Protective Boyfriend.
He shouldered in between Random Guy and Charm, towering over him, and snatched her cigarette back. “You enjoying that?”
The guy took a moment to register confusion and possible hostility, when Charm explained, “This is my boyfriend.”
“Oh – sorry man!”
End of saga. As soon as the bulky presence of The Boyfriend appeared Random Guy magically didn’t want a lighter anymore, funny that. I stood with my eyes narrowed and arms folded, seething until Kuya gently guided me back across the road. “C’mon darl.”
I really wish I’d said to the guy, “We don’t have to give you shit, you weird obsessive freak. Get your own lighter and leave us alone.” Or maybe a more polite variant. No fuck it, why do I have to be polite, you’re fucking scaring me!
Fuck you, drunk guy. We were just trying to make our way home. We had both had it and were shitty as hell. We did not want to be harassed by you. We are not obliged to give you a cigarette lighter or in any way respond to a stranger’s demands attentively and politely at on the middle of