this thing is still about things

Tag Archives: zombies

Dickwolves, Dickwolves, Dickwolves!


Today we have a very special episode concerning dickwolves.

As you know, I heart, heart, heart Penny Arcade. I loved it when I hated Warcraft, when I loved Warcraft and now, after I’ve retired from Warcraft. I think they’re offensive and very, very funny. I have purchased and will continue to purchase with real life money Penny Arcade merchandise. The tee shirts I have are loved and well worn. It warms my heart remembering the day my (ex) boss asked me “What’s wang fu?”. Good times, good times.

Suddenly, everyone is up in arms about Dickwolves. As the next day’s comic states, the comic illustrated how “…an imaginary person was raped imaginarily by a mythological creature whose every limb is an erect phallus.”

I know, I know. Rape is bad! Dicks are bad! Slaves are bad! Wolves are bad! All of these things together are SUPER BAD!!

Yes, things are bad. But things are also funny. The comic is tasteless, yes. So everyone who has ever laughed at a tasteless joke should go shoot themselves now. The comic is also funny. It’s funny to people who get the joke about nerd quests. The next day’s joke was even funnier. The dickwolves tee shirt was awesome and I wanted it but they pulled the shirt from the online store.


One of the best (well written AND funny) blog entries I’ve read comes from The Zombie Rights Campaign which is surprising as many of you who read this blog know how I feel about zombies.

Even after they pulled the shirt, still so many people are so up in arms about it, calling for boycotts of Penny Arcade and their convention, Pax, saying they’re perpetuating rape culture and so on and so forth, then complaining because the responses they were receiving were harsh and sarcastic (I’d be much less nice if I were being called a rapemonger). It’s a sad lesson for the world: try to be nice, try to meet at a common ground, and you’ll be crucified for it. I have already spent too much time thinking about this thing and how ridiculous it is. If you are a rape survivor then go on with your life, stop being a victim and find a real cause. Like REAL rape. REAL slavery. No one is laying in bed having nightmares about dickwolves or being raped by dickwolves.

These people need to spend their time and effort on combating REAL RAPE AND REAL SLAVERY. RAINN: Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network and Human are just two organizations that could definitely use all of this voice and energy. Because that’s real. Not dickwolves. Shit, are we still fucking talking about dickwolves????

So before I get the hate mail about my role in the dickwolf rape slave trade, I will tell you the abbreviated version of my own story.

I was hesitant to get all serious as this is a blog mostly about frivolity, yarn and my incredibly boring suburban life. And I realized that my story as a rape and incest survivor is a part of my incredibly boring suburban life. Not many people know–it’s probably the worst ice breaker at a party and if I’m going to throw a pity party, I’ll throw one for myself, thankyouverymuch. I have had what some people might call a really terrible history: I was molested and raped as a child by two separate family members starting around the age of 3 or 4. My earliest memories are of the abuse. As I grew older, I became better at totally blocking memories out. I do know that I was about 8 or 9 years old when it stopped. One family member was caught and that ended “quickly” (I was 4 or 5) and the other one was not found out until I told my parents as an adult.

The mental anguish and self esteem issues lead me to abuse my body in about every way imaginable. These dangerous habits and decisions in my late teens and early twenties put me in a situation where I was date raped at 20.

All of this is compounded by the fact that the person who abused almost daily for years now lives consequence free in my childhood home now. My parents know all about what happened to me, how it has shaped my life, and yet the responses I have from them are to move on, let it go, forget about it. That I should share my life, my children and my happiness with these people because it’s the right thing to do. The right thing for whom? Did I mention that they suspected things were happening to me as a child but did nothing? Let me say that again: My parents suspected “something” was happening to me as a child but did nothing.

I have not seen anyone in my family for about five years now. They have never seen my children nor do they know their names. I look at my son, who will be 4 years old in March and know that I was being raped at a younger age than he is now. I am bitter and I am angry. I am unresolved. But I am also resolved. Resolved to live my life. To laugh and to love and find humor in the humorous. To take seriously the things that should be serious. I hope Penny Arcade continues to make comics about “violence, rape, aids, pedophilia, bestiality, drugs, cancer, homosexuality, and religion” because they make me laugh SO MUCH. SO FUCKING MUCH.

Added 02/02: I wanted to add that I am not trivializing or minimalizing my experience or the experience of anyone else that has dealt with rape, incest or abuse. If someone is offended by the comic, then by all means, be offended. It’s your goddamned right to be offended as much as you want. But the choice was there to not read the comic, to not buy the shirt and to not attend the convention created by the same people who created the comic and the shirt. Survivors want the right to express their views and not be silenced which is what I’ve tried to do here for myself. No one has to read this. But as the right to voice your opinion and your story is innate, so is the right to have the comic strip, the joke, plush dickwolves, dickwolf sex toys, dickwolf costumes, etc. If you don’t like it, don’t read it, buy it, support it. But don’t tell someone else they cannot.

Dickwolves are not serious. Can we stop fucking talking about dickwolves now?


Pregnancy story


Last night was a pretty boring night. Didn’t do much, ate taquitos for dinner, and watched some Ghost Hunters before bed.


Now, you hear all the time about pregnant women who are over emotional and crazy and I fall into that category no problem. I’m already that way prepregnancy, so being pregnant just adds that extra kick to the crazy. The last pregnancy I worried about zombies.


Not just worrying about them, but being up all night thinking about them. Crying about them. Planning for them. If we ever get attacked by zombies, you had better find me, because I will totally survive. You probably will not.

So, last night, after I turn off Ghost Hunters and lay down, I start thinking about how awful it would be to be trapped in my house as a ghost and not be with my family who I assume would still be alive. And moved out. I plan my sad scenarios pretty well, thankyouverymuch. So I start to cry. And not like, oh, a tear rolled down my face cry. Like ughugyhgugughggughghg boohooing bawling crying like an idiot. I would have laughed, but I was overcome with the horror and anger at having people move into my house and having my family so far away.

I’m awesome.



My greatest fear of all time has come to fruition. Behold the end of the world:

I have a slight headache due to hunger…for brains!

Woman Wakes Up After Family Says Goodbye, Tubes Pulled

Are you fucking kidding me?

“[Thomas]…suffered two heart attacks and had no brain waves for more than 17 hours. At about 1:30 a.m. Saturday, her heart stopped and she had no pulse. A respiratory machine kept her breathing and rigor mortis had set in, doctors said.
“Her skin had already started to harden and her fingers curled. Death had set in,” said son Jim Thomas…her heart stopped again.
“She had no neurological function,” said Dr. Kevin Eggleston.
Ten minutes later the woman woke up and started talking.
“She (nurse) said, ‘I’m so sorry Mrs. Thomas.’ And mom said, ‘That’s OK honey. That’s OK,” Jim Thomas said.”

What they didn’t share was the fact that the woman in question then ate the brains of the apologetic nurse. I can read between the lines.

The end is nigh!