Wednesday, May 24, 2006

My dearest chums and I have recently come to a series of revelations concluding in the creation of a (I know it is so damn cliché now...) MySpace group, "Birth Control Has Left Me Dead on the Inside"


please consider this an open invitation to other bitter whores like myself and my associates who agree with what we feel:


We represent an organization, nay a generation, of women who are tired of the same old bullshit. We watched Disney movies and Saturday morning television where people were capable of changing the world and finding love with the first hot guy that rode past on his white horse.

Then we grew up. Eventually, we all began to use some birth control. Maybe at first it was to control the bad skin that Barbie and Jem never had, but eventually it was to create a barren wasteland in our once fertile wombs. This was not out of bitterness or with any real thought to population growth, but so that we could have carefree, worry free sex knowing that the best birth control was redundant birth control.

Years later we’ve fallen in and out of love. We’ve tried bad guys, good guys, gay guys, jocks, nerds, losers, idiots and pretensions assholes. They’ve all been disappointing in one way or another. We’ve dumped them and they’ve dumped us, we’ve rebounded so often that there are divots in the pavement. We’ve tried the friends with benefits, the committed relationships, living together, leather, celibacy, lesbianism, threesomes, random hookups and A LOT of masturbation. And all of it has left us generally under whelmed. Between the repeated disappointments in our love and sex lives, we’ve grown bitter, cynical, and difficult to impress.

Naturally, as personal disappointments mirror professional disappointments, the general cynicism bleeds into other aspects of our lives. We don’t cry at Hallmark commercials, or at the end of Meryl Streep movies. Most of us don’t even like that bitch. We prefer Margaret Cho, Sara Silverman, Janeane Garofalo, Michelle Rodriguez. Bitches who make us laugh, chicks we can respect. We don’t get all worked up over things that don’t affect us directly, we don’t see the point in making a scene unless it’s a really big one, and most of the world never sees that. Most of the world sees us as generally under whelmed. We feel generally under whelmed. A little dead inside. And while birth control has merely created an unnaturally long winter in our wombs, freezing our reproductive mechanisms into inactivity while we search for a reason to revive them, the connection between our sentiments and our ovaries has not escaped us, and irony is always interesting, usually effective, and often very funny.

That is why we say Birth Control Has Left Me Dead on the Inside.