2001-05-19 - 12:11 a.m.
I'm procrastinating with a vengeance. Trust a favorite villainess to help out:
Mechaieh, your inner rock star is Sade.
Untouchable, hm? Guess I don't need to go around tapping mirrors. After receiving it through one of his e-lists, the BYM asked me to explain the phrase "visually raped," to which I replied "overwrought description of someone getting their jollies by looking at you without your permission - which is indeed an invasion of privacy in many instances, as well as just plain tacky. But 'rape'? *snort*"
[For what it's worth, I can't stand it when people trivialize the word "nazi," either. Or when they modify almost any adjective with "most" or "est" in tandem with "in my life" - unless they really mean it, but how often is that? Then there's my allergy to hysteria, which extends to rhetorical overkill... ("The British critic John Carey is not alone in disliking the tendency of both Lowell and Plath to appropriate historical tragedies 'as if they were upsets in their own little psyches.'" - Joel Connaroe, Eight American Poets. Hear, hear! (even though I do like some of Lowell and Plath's other histrionics...)]
Later in the day, the BYM made a point of blatantly ogling me. When I raised my eyebrows back at him (remember, we've been married for almost seven years), he smirked: "Just doing my bit of visual rape."
Mechaieh: "Can't be - it's consensual."
BYM: "I didn't ask permission and you didn't give it."
Mechaieh: "It's implicit. And they can't get you for statutory, either."
BYM: "'Statutory visual rape.' Hmm."
Pause. Then his eyes gleamed...and he pointedly transferred his stare to the puppy.
Mechaieh (in spite of herself): "HEY!"
Lots of firefighting at work today - I was on the horn within two minutes of parking my car, and still cursing slow modems and wonky servers at 5:15 p.m. But lots of good things, too:
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