7 things i learned after going mini-viral

Hey girl!

It's Saturday night.

Pull up a chair and pour yourself a glass of whatever scratches your itch.

Me? I'm going full cliche and enjoying a crisp glass of Nine Hats pinot grigio. Why? Because fuck cliches, that shit is tasty.

It's been quite a week over here and I wanted to take a moment to breathe (well, drink), and reflect on some of the things I've learned since Next Level Rage Stroke: Harvey Fucking Weinstein went mini-viral.

I say mini-viral because apparently, you need 5 million views in this day and age, but again, fuck that. I wrote something that 1,410,000 people have read. It's not hemorrhagic fever-viral. But the post is definitely, like, rabies-viral.

So tonight let's keep it light, drink our tasty bevs, and read on for...

7 Things I Learned After Going Mini-Viral

1. #Yesallwomen are starving to speak and be heard. SERIOUSLY LISTEN TO US. At least 95% of the people who shared this post were just trying to find a volume at which our lady voices could actually fucking be heard.

2. No matter how many views my blog gets, when my kid shits his diaper, mama's gotta stop typing and take care of business. The day the post hit 700,000, I got a phone call from an old friend, congratulating me on the post. Here is a transcript of that conversation:

Me: Hey you!
Her: Hey hey, lady! Look at you!
Me: I know! I honestly can't belie-- CHICKEN WHAT IS IN YOUR MOUTH
Her: ...
Me: CHICKEN WHAT IS-- IS THAT-- okay it's a cracker.
Her: Everything okay?
Me: Oh yeah, you know, just a regular-- BUSTER IS THAT VASELINE ON YOUR HANDS
Buster, in the background: Yeah! It's smooth!
Me: I'm sorry I gotta go BUSTER DON'T GRAB THE CURTAINS--
(line goes dead)

Listen, life is life, and life with a 3-year-old and a 5-year-old is like playing a double ping-pong game where both of the players are literally trying to die and/or destroy everything you love over the course of the game.

3. Chad is everywhere. And let me remind you about the Chad. Chad is not Harvey. Chad is the nicest guy in the world. He's so nice that if you could shut up for one fucking second he would tell you about how much he listens to women.

Chad, if you're reading this, don't worry. We are definitely going to keep making fun of you, but we're glad you're here. Calling out your Chad stuff is our way of checking to see if you are for real.

This world churns out Chads. That's what the system is designed to do; like a crayon factory spits out wax wrapped in paper, USA spits out well-meaning Chads who walk all over the ladies.

And on another level, most of us were or are still Chad in some way. I am Chad, when it comes to race. I mean well, but fuck up and hurt people, because I'm white and I grew up in a world that loves my whiteness. I'm Chad when it comes to gender identity and sexual orientation. I'm Chad when it comes to disability. We all have our shit to learn.

Chad, the fact that you're Chad isn't a deal-breaker. If you STAY Chad, bail when we call you on your Chaddisms, turn into Harvey, or get all fragile on us, that's a deal-breaker. Stick around and keep listening. We see you when you do.

4. Harvey is also everywhere, usually hiding behind a thin veneer of Chad. I'll tell you what, all you have to do to find out who you're dealing with is establish some explicit boundaries and wait for the the first joker to call you a cunt.

I posted a message in the comments thread of the Next-Level Rage Stroke, basically saying, listen, if you mansplain, #notallmen, or are generally Chad here, I'll probably just delete your comment without responding, because this space belongs to me, and I don't owe you a platform for your bullshit.

10 seconds later the comment appeared: "You are a piece of shit cunt."



A few minutes after that: "Why are you causing so much trouble?"

By talking about documented sexual assault? I guess I'm just asking for it.


A few minutes after that: "If I had the chance to fuck you, I'd run so far in the opposite direction."





Then THE SAME GUY, who apparently didn't realize that I too could play this game all fucking day, started clicking on random posts from several years ago, probably cackling with glee in a basement somewhere drinking a carton of warm milk, leaving foul little Easter eggs in the comments section of posts about trips to the zoo and sleep training.

BTW, I get an email every time someone comments on my blog.

So your comment, "I'm not mansplaining, you're chicksplaining," while hilarious, was in no way spycraft.


to use a woman's power of speech to write or say true things to men in a way that incites panic, terror, or inexplicable rage. 
See also: Talking (female). 
See also: Writing (female). 
See also: Occupying space (female).

5. I spelled ficas wrong. I spelled it with a u. You've found me out, trolls of Reddit. I'm a fraud. How could I possibly have anything true to say about the experience of being a woman if I'm such a brazen lying whore that I spell the names of plants with only 4 out of 5 correct letters? I'm sorry I wasted your time. I will never write again. Good-bye forever. Please impregnate me.

6. Lance Bass might tweet ABOUT you, but he won't tweet AT you. Girl, who do you think you are, Mariah Carey? Sit down and count your blessing.

7. It turns out, the money means something to me. It's not about the money, though. It's not about the dollar amounts that people pledged or gave. It's about the number of people who read my post, took the time to seek out my Patreon or Paypal accounts, and decided yes, that collection of foul language was worth a few of my hard-earned simoleans. (We are bringing back simoleans, people. Gird your loins. It's happening.)

Like most writers (and mothers), I've worked for free because I love the work and need to do it to feel like a complete person. I have always found value in writing. But now other people agree with me. And not just with their words. And it's a whole new world. I can't tell you how many times I cried, reading the notes you all sent with your Paypals, and the messages you sent with your pledges on Patreon.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Please remember that the reason these posts resonate with you is because of how much you fucking love yourself, and how hard you work to be heard every day.

You are great.


8. Holy shit, did you guys know Jamie Lee Curtis is married to Christopher Guest? I learned that this week and it made me love him even more than when he did the nut thing in Best in Show.

And because not every blog post ends in a BLAM, and some end in more of a "huh," I now present to you, that nut thing from Best in Show:

harlan pepper
if you don't stop naming nuts...


Post a Comment