<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/plusone.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar.g?targetBlogID\x3d12981576\x26blogName\x3dArchaeopteryx\x26publishMode\x3dPUBLISH_MODE_BLOGSPOT\x26navbarType\x3dBLACK\x26layoutType\x3dCLASSIC\x26searchRoot\x3dhttp://archaeopteryx.blogspot.com/search\x26blogLocale\x3den_US\x26v\x3d2\x26homepageUrl\x3dhttp://archaeopteryx.blogspot.com/\x26vt\x3d-2983377980034305966', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Sunday, July 17, 2005

The Good Ol' Days

I thought I wanted to be feminist, but then I realized how dark and scary the world is outside my kitchen. Give me a flower arrangement instead:

I also find, to my alarm, that there are a number of things I don't want to do and I don't care if they do lead the way to the androgynous, so-called feminist paradise. Bury cats (I'm talking about dead cats: I don't think anyone should be burying live ones). Investigate noises made by possible burglars in the middle of the night. Take things down from very high shelves. (OK, I admit it: I don't want to do much that can't be done while sitting). Cricket. I fail to see what can be the point of the children having a father if I have to get my head around batting averages and be forever on top of the test score.

I know what she means. Batting averages make my brain hurt, too. I only watch sports to admire the beauty of the playing field and of course, hope for a glimpse of a hottie athlete adjusting himself while a streak of brown chaw is propelled from his mouth. It makes all my feminist ideals slowly fade away.

The world has got too complex. I long for the time when we women knew where we were and what we were for, when we had a real, recognisable role. Bring back flower arranging and piling up pyramids of profiteroles.

Yeah! Fuck voting!