I really didn’t want to have to write about this, but it seems that the only way to make it leave my head is to acknowledge its presence and therefore blog about it. I was going to use this as my first skirt blog too, but then I thought, well maybe it’s too raunchy and a bit too college-y. It’s funny that I’ve just graduated in May and I’m already writing about college from a spectator’s point of you.
This Wednesday I, like many UNI students in Australia decided to get my drink on and go out with a few friends. Jono met us at the house and we walked over to UV where a bunch of people were playing Kings. I know all of my NCSU and beyond friends know what Kings is (maybe it’s better known as Circle of Death, Kings Circle, Ring of Fire etc) but it’s played way different in Australia. For instance, 6 is not chicks, it’s dicks. And Seven is not Heaven, but Bottles (Bottles is a game where everyone counts off, and any multiple of 7 or number with 7 in it, the person has to yell out bottles and the counting reverses, even numbers like 17, 27, 28. It can get really confusing if you’ve been drinking Fosters and multiplication went out the window in second grade after you lost the chart on the back of your bathroom door. There are other subtle differences too, but nothing too major. Other then the King’s cup in the middle of the game. Everytime someone pulls a King from the deck they pour a little of their drink in this middle goblet. When the fourth (or eighth King if you’re playing with two decks) is pulled the person has to drink the King’s cup and there’s a funny little song that goes with it that I haven’t quite learned yet, but probably should since I’m an embarrassment to the Australian race by not knowing it, and also because I feel a bit like the outsider in a Catholic Church who doesn’t know all the hand signals during the service. (Not that I would really know how that feels, other then ex-boyfriends telling me that us Catholics are like a cult the way we do things, BUT that’s another story entirely).
I’m also getting really off topic by telling people about drinking games.
Anyway, after the drinking games we walked to Lighty’s, the local labor club and tried to get in to the “Golf Pros and Tennis Hoes” party which was a bust because the line was way long, it was raining, the line wasn’t moving, and I had just peed massive amounts in public behind a big metal box. Plus, these douchebags kept yelling “You are a Wanker” to the guys that were with us. And then THEY, the douches, got into the bar and we were left in the cold. It’s really funny how karma works sometimes.
But….again, not my point.
My point is, college parties have a sick way of subordinating, and subjugating women. It’s funny with all my women’s history and women’s literature, and women and gender courses that I took in college I never actually noticed how ignorant party names were until I actually went to one in Australia. Sometimes it takes after graduation for the brain to reach pseudo-mental clarity. I mean this party was called “Golf Pros and Tennis Hoes.” So what is that saying about men and women you ask me that’s soooo negative? Well, the men are golf pros right? So that means they’re good at sport, athletes, smart on the field, professionals, etc. And the women are Tennis Hoes and we all know what that means; short skirts, hoes, sleep-around, not professional and not worth it basically.
And no, I’m not looking too far into this.
In order to prove my point, I took the liberty of tracking through my college years again and naming off a few parties I’ve attended. Plus, with the help of google now-a-days you can find tons of party names, just in the knick of time. (Guys are going to respond to this post by saying these parties are a way to get women in the littlest clothes possible, which is still wrong, and still quite disgusting, and yet us women still do it. We put on our little hoe shorts and our cleavage tennis tops and strut around the bar getting ass grabs and slobbery words all over us. Why again?)
Party names circa NCSU (and other universities in the past):
- Pimps and Hoes (man in control, woman at his beckon call)
- CEO’s and Office Hoes (Man rise to the top, women stay at the bottom)
- Catholic School (Girls dress in little Catholic school outfits and boys in shirt and tie)
- Bikers and Babes (not the mountain biking kind and if it’s anything like Myrtle Beach black bike week, then thongs will be out and proud with glitter on the thighs ladies)
- Biker hoes and Bicycle Bros (wear leather and spandex reign free, post eighties)
- Cops and Robbers (guests are handcuffed to the opposite sex)
- GI Joes and Army Hoes (….really….)
- Pirates and Wenches (dudes get swords and women get …rags? I mean that’s just unfair)
- Quarterbacks and Cheerleaders (boys score and girls cheer them on, because we have no brain…riiiight)
- Playboy Party (All boys are Hugh, are girls are naked)
I think I successfully proved my point. So, in regards to my own sanity, I took the liberty of coming up with my own theme parties, where males can wear less clothing and women can laugh at them.
- Pretty nails and Chippendale’s (men only wear bow ties, and girls get manicures).
- Females and Chippendale’s (same idea except girls come as they are and boys still get only bow-ties).
- Women and Richard Simmons (we do what we want, and you dress as Richard Simmons; hair, voice and all!)
- Yacht girls and swat guys (this….just rhymed)
- Fully Dressed and Sausage Fest (Guys have to bring at least 2 friends and girls come in all their clothes)
- Hygenists and Penises (isn’t this one just a bit self-explanatory
- Swans and Schlongs (I, personally hate this word, but….it happens)
- Cute Jeans and Small Peens (yep, I went there)
- Queens and Little Peens (it just keeps getting better)
- Princesses and Hot messes
Okay, I think I’m done. I think I fully exhausted the “I hate men for the day party list.” Really, I never hated these parties in college and I fun with my girls getting ready for them and covering myself in body glitter and wearing crazy Lady GaGa eyeliner. But, they are degrading, regardless of how you look at them and so I’m just trying to show you how much with my little made-up list. Who knows, in about 10 years when women rule the world (don’t argue with me) maybe my list will be the new thing. Get ready frat houses, I’m interfering with your drunk little schemes.