or; a nincom-sistent poop
So . . . I'm sitting there in my Women's Studies class the other day (The Rise (and fall 
) of Modern Feminism) and talking to one of the girls in the class. She's a really cool girl; one of these days I'll have to ask her out. (And me meeting really cool girls seems to be a problem lately – all the cool ones are not available, and all the available ones are not cool.)
At any rate, there I was, sitting next to this girl (we'll call her Nina for our purposes here . . . mostly because that's her name) and talking, and in comes The Annoyance.
Now, The Annoyance is exactly the type of person you'd expect to encounter in a “Rise of Modern Feminism” class. She's the very butch type that we love to run from. She's got the Sinead O'Connor-style hair, pierced everything (visible, I don't care to know about the “unmentionables”), doesn't shave her legs, runs around in wife-beaters with a flannel shirt tied about her waist . . . you know the type. Not the kind of person that exudes elegance or poise.
So . . . Nina and I are speaking to each other (did I mention Nina is drop-dead kill-me-now gorgeous?) and in she comes, plopping down right in front of us, and generally exuding angst.
We begin class, and start to talk about different forms of feminism. We talk about liberal, radical, global, neo-feminism. We talk about them crazy eco-feminists, who think the whole world should live in eco-pueblos, where each community is just a group of a couple hundred and technology is moot.
During all this, of course I make jokes with Nina, poking fun at all the different types of feminism. It was all in good fun; it's not like I was being bitter or vitriolic (even though I can be at times), but I could just feel the nasty vibes emanating from The Annoyance. She's not a happy camper.
As we arrive to the big discussion part of class, and she raises her hand (stankiness issuing forth from the newly exposed pit) to put her two cents in. “To be brutally honest, I think that S.C.U.M. had it right, and we should simply eradicate the male half of the species. They're all a bunch of arrogant, misogynistic, neo-con assholes.”
I proceed to fire the V8 I'm drinking through both nostrils. I'm sure it looks like I've got a nasty bloody nose. (And can I just mention, V8 is quite the salty nastiness to expunge through your nose?)
The Annoyance turns around in her chair and glares.
Man, if looks could kill. Good thing I'm already dead from the V8 nasal enema.
Now it's time for my study of feminist thought and my own burgeoning feminism to win the day.
“Oh yeah,” I say, “All the men in the world are misogynists. Something tells me you're wrong. Plenty of us are feminists.”
“Prove it,” she contests.
“All right. I, personally, lean more towards differential feminism. Heard of In Praise of Difference? yeah, Rosiska Darcy de Oliveira had it right – of course every one deserves equal rights, but it's important to realize that there are certain physiological differences that are unavoidable among human beings, both male and female. Sorry, but S.C.U.M. didn't have it right. The answer is not to 'abolish the money system, over throw the government, and destroy the male sex.' Besides . . . Valerie Solanas was a total nutcase.”
She reddens, I smile, the teacher declares class dismissed, and Nina leaps into my arms. (Okay, all of that was true except the leaping into my arms part. Give me some time.)
Bye-bye, The Annoyance. You truly are “The nincom-sistent-poop.”