You're Weak

I was visiting my friends at the University of Illinois during my sophomore year of college. My friend, Lisa, lived in a four-bedroom house with her brother, her friend Lizzie, and a friend that I can’t remember the name of. Let's call him Steve. Lisa's brother was out of town for the weekend, so I bunked up in his room. 

That Saturday, all the housemates and a few other friends hung out in the evening. Later on, mostly everyone including Steve decided to go out to the bars. Lisa and I opted to stay in, and Lizzie went to stay at her boyfriend's apartment.  

What must’ve been a few hours later, I was asleep in bed and felt someone climb on top of me. I woke up to heavy pressure on my hips, blinking my eyes open to the darkness. I made out that Steve was on top of me. He pulled me up to sitting position and urged me to come out to the hallway. I pushed his chest, saying to leave me alone. I turned around and lifted the covers over my head. This pissed him off. He remarked, in a drunken slur, that this was his home and he could do what he wanted. He ripped the covers off the bed, the cold air reminding me I was wearing only my underwear and a cami. He pulled my arm so forcefully that I nearly fell out of the bed. I continued to resist until I had no choice but to stand, as it felt like my arm was being pulled from its socket. I kept mumbling, "What are you doing...stop...leave me alone...where's lisa..." Deaf ears.

Steve dragged me outside into the dimly-lit hallway where several other people stood, drinks and cigarettes in hand. He positioned me next to him, his arm firmly around my waist. I didn't recognize the people--these were not the friends from earlier in the evening. They seemed older. They laughed and chatted, seemingly ignoring what was going on. Still confused from sleep, I muttered to Steve, "Let me go." He laughed, mocking my timid voice. "What was that? Can't you speak up?" He refused saying he was stronger than me, and I couldn’t do anything since I was weak. He continued to grope me: my stomach, my breasts, my butt. Anytime I pulled away or told him to stop, he gripped harder, enjoying my weakness. 

I don't know why no one helped me. I remember staring at the individuals in the hallway, pleading with tears in my eyes for them to say something, do something. I don't know why I didn't scream. I suppose--at the time--the embarrassment of being fondled and toyed with was easier to stomach than putting up a fight in my friend's home. Was I disturbing the peace? Would I cause a fight among the roommates? Whatever logic I had, my feeble attempts to stop him went nowhere. I felt defeated.

At one point, he let down his guard to get a drink. I jerked away and ran into Lisa's brother's room, locking the door. As I pulled my hand away from the door, I saw it vibrate from knocking. Steve yelled, demanding I let him in. I said nothing. I stared at the doorknob. I stared until his footsteps returned to the group of drunk friends. I pushed the desk in the room up against the door as safety. I climbed back into bed, staring at the ceiling until the halls went quiet, my mind dozing off as daylight crept into the room. 

When I woke up, I texted Lisa, asking her to come to my room. She was there shortly thereafter. I told her everything. Having fallen asleep drunk, she didn't hear anything that transpired; however, she assured me she and Lizzie would talk to Steve about what happened. While he was nowhere to be found that day, I told them I didn't feel safe there, and they agreed. I was heading back to my school that day, anyway, so we went out to breakfast, and I left shortly thereafter.

That evening, Lisa told me they had a hard conversation with Steve about what happened. He claimed he didn't remember any of it. Division among them reached a boiling point--because of this matter and others--and they soon severed ties, both as friends and as roommates. 

I look back at that night as a time where I felt helpless. Were something like that to happen to me today, I surely would act differently, knowing I'm stronger now both physically and mentally. I wish present me could go back and kick Steve's ass and lambast those people for doing nothing. Thing is, I'm sure they never again thought about that whimpering girl in her underwear.

Jeans

When I was 18, I worked at Home Depot. Yep, orange apron and all. There was a locker room where you placed your personal effects before your shift. 

One morning, I approached my locker, bending over to pick up something off the ground. I could feel eyes on me. I turned around and an older man that worked in the carpeting department (let's call him Carpet Don) stood in the doorway staring at me--well, at my butt. I was more reserved back then, and girls are taught to be polite and kind, even in the face of indecency. I asked if he needed something. "No," Carpet Don said, "not when you wear a nice pair of jeans like that." He continued to stare, smirking, holding his position in the doorway. I squeezed past him, pacing toward my register to start my shift.

I later told my supervisor, Nathan, what happened. He insisted I inform HR with haste, going so far as to  offer to go with me if I wanted; and if I was scared, he would report it on my behalf. (Leaders: take note on how to support those under you). 

A formal complaint was put forth and HR let me know that Carpet Don (I really can't remember his name, nor does it matter) was reprimanded and disciplined. HR told me to let them know if anything like this ever happens again. As much as I disliked my job at Home Depot, I commend the company's urgency in addressing the harassment.

I don’t remember if Carpet Don was later fired or quit. In the weeks and months he remained employed, whenever we crossed paths, he gave me this look of disdain which spoke "you did this to me." I would feel that so many more times in my life--that feeling victims are meant to feel by there attackers: this is my fault.

Chased

This memory is bit hazy. 

When I was about 16 years old, I walked to the street where my car was parked to visit my dad. There was an SUV parked about 100 feet behind my car with an older man wearing sunglasses inside. I didn’t think much of it and proceeded to get in my car. 

• I drove toward the entrance of the neighborhood, noticing the SUV was behind me. 
• As I took a left, he took a left; as I took a right on the first main road, he took a right on the first main road. 
• He followed so closely that I decided to take a right into a McDonald’s. So did he. 
• I began to feel suspicious and promptly exited back to the main road. So did he. 
• I then took the next right and then a left into the larger neighborhood my dad's home was in. So did he.
• At this point, there was no doubt he was following me, and I started to pick up the dangerous speeds upwards of 50 mph in the neighborhood. So did he.
• He kept up behind me. I kept driving faster and taking random turns. So did he. 
• I remember sweating. I remember knowing there was an alley behind a strip mall near my dad's house. I picked up speed again and quickly parked in between two cars. 
• I slouched in the seat looking toward the alley. The SUV slowly crawled by. It stopped. I slouched even lower. 
• I remember my heart racing, my hands scrambling for my phone. I called my dad and let him know what was going on. 
• A couple minutes later, I saw my Dad running toward my car. I got out and demanded we go inside his home. I told him everything.
• I didn't get the plate numbers, so there was nothing to report of substance. My dad scolded me for not knowing to go straight to the police department. I retorted saying I NOW knew and would do that if it happened in the future. 

It didn't. I don't know what that man's intent was: to scare me, to kidnap me, to joyride. I also don't know if I ever saw him again. Through my foggy memories, I can still see his face behind the windshield.

My Life (So Far) Under His Shadow

This is a series of stories I've wanted to tell for sometime now. While I prefer to write stories that make people laugh, there are few moments of levity in these. My focus will be the treatment I received by certain men in my life including previous workplaces and one specific relationship that I only remember as convincingly sweet until it became poisonous. As I was told so many times in my younger years--and even in many of my writing classes--I will try not to be emotional and stick to the facts. 

In my teens and 20s (and perhaps a li'l now, too), I wanted to be treated normally. My hobbies, my words, my actions, my ambitions--often because I am a woman were these things judged differently. There was a time, no longer, that I thought "if I were just born a boy, things would be better...easier for me." And it's true.

I don't know what the schedule will be or how many I will tell at a time. I do know that I have a lot to tell, and although I hate staring at the past, perhaps this history lesson in bullying, harassment, belittling...perhaps it's worth telling to help put an end to this sort of treatment. I will change details as to not specifically identify individuals or workplaces; however, perhaps one individual who was particularly malicious doesn't deserve to be shielded by anonymity.

The scary thing about posting these stories is thinking how they will make ME look bad. I suppose that is normal. In most of these instances, I'm the unwilling participant. I don't want these stories to be part of my life, but they were.

P.S. There are many, many good men in my life, past and present. And there are bad women, too, of course. 

Tokyo Mirage Sessions - Opinions, Complaints, Censorship

I wrote this...review of sorts for Tokyo Mirage Sessions #FE back in February and unearthed it today...in September. It's a bit late--but hoping this will be the precursor to more of my unconventional game reviews. And since it's been so long, let's just cut the small talk and get to it.

Sound
Lots of catchy tunes ranging from your typical JRPG dungeon-crawling beats to some awesome J-POP tracks (case in point: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GHiMuBWuELA).

Censorship

I didn’t look into this until after I played the game. After seeing the comparison, I can’t say any of the changes made me think twice. I don't believe the the US should censor female boobs so strongly, but it’s often out of control for the creator and at the whim of regulating entities (ahem, ESRB). You get rated based on your game’s most offensive possible content, and if you hit a Teen or Mature rating, that’s going to limit how you advertise and who has access to purchase your game, among many other things. Sometimes games may be censored if only to open them up to a broader audience. This is all my conjecture, of course. Look: If you need to see unobscured boobies, might I interest you in a series of tubes?

Graphics

I don’t get into frame drops and hotboxing or whatever it’s called when things don’t form quickly enough from far away. TMS looks fine. Great art style and nothing that detracted from the gameplay or story. Smooth animations and fun flourishes during battle. 

Complaints (Good lord why do I play games if I have so many things I hate about them?)

• What the heck are my party members saying during battle? They’re conversing with each other and their Mirages in Japanese, and I’m this English-speaking tactician commanding them. (I need to know what Tharja is saying that makes Kiria’s eyes bulge out every other battle.) That said, the rest of the game is translated excellently. I feel I’m missing out on a bit of the game’s charm by not understanding their battle banter.
• Itsuki—LET ME SWITCH HIM OUT of my team in my first playthrough. I don’t like when game designers lock options like this behind a second playthrough. I get requiring him for certain battles, but let me choose my artists.
• Notifications—LET ME TURN THEM OFF. It’s the in-game equivalent to your phone dinging you every time your friend Brett sends 20 one-word texts within a minute. This became especially bothersome when I focused on leveling up all my weapons. Each weapon has four skills and around every three battles you get a new one. You get an upper-left hand corner graphic and the exclamation point on your in-game phone won’t go away until you scroll through your new skill list. I get it--lots of skills!
• Barry. I get that his relationship with Mamori is silly; however, it came off as obsessive for a 35-year-old man to fawn over an 11-year-old girl to me. (He prefers anime girls in his bio.) Maybe this stems from me being chased by an older man across my hometown as a young teenage girl. I dunno, just came off as creepy to me. I did not like that sort of attention as a young girl from adult men--innocent or not.

Playtime

Took me a little bit over 50 hours to play through the main story, all character side stories, and maybe half of the other side quests. I ended at level 71 for all my characters for the final boss.

Should you play Tokyo Mirage Sessions? 

• Do you like JPRGs? Then yes.
• Are you craving more Fire Emblem in any way possible? Then yes. Lots of great references throughout if you’ve played Shadow Dragon and Awakening.
• Do you like Atlus games? Then yes.
• Are you interested in playing Atlus games like Persona 5 but don’t have a PS4? Then yes.
• Did you like P5 but think the story took itself a bit too seriously? Then yes. TMS has a good story, which doesn’t try to preach, all the while cleverly inserting the pop culture elements.
• Did you want FFX-2 to have a better story and still bask in the fluff (both verbally and physically)? Then yes.
• Do you like games that are kinda grueling in regards to leveling up and character customization, yet you can’t help but revel in the constant grind? Then yesss.
• Do you like games with side quests that don’t feel like filler? Then yes.
• Do you openly or secretly like J-pop? Then yes and 100% your housemates will judge you. But who cares? A lot of the songs are cool, MOM.

10 Fake Game Show Host Intro Lines

I created this list for a job that didn't pan out in the past. They wanted a creative marketer, so I undertook this writing challenge and one other. I didn't get the job because I didn't have enough analytical experience--go figure. Note to all future creatives: You can't simply write or design, you have to be useful in other non-related fields. (Let the salt burn the Earth!)

1. It’s America’s favorite show: Tossed Commas and Scrambled Verbs. I’m your host Kelsey Grammar. While we like to abbreviate many things in this life, some things are not meant to be abbreviated. I told my colleagues I had a massive BM last night. It was a Bloody Mary. Anyway…  
2. We’re here for another episode of Sit, Stay, SPEAK—the show where you compete against a dog in basic commands. Tonight we’re brought to you by Boondock St. Bernards. Want a cuddly puppy with a taste for vigilante justice? Get yourself a Boondock St. Bernard. Someone take Beethoven out…for blood! 
3. Hey, gang. My name is Bob Sourbro, and THIS…is Carb or Starve, the trivia show that asks the question: Do you have a gluten allergy? 
4. Welcome to another episode of Cause for Pause—the game show about freezable movie frames. I’m Sebastian Pistachio, certified movie nut. 
5. Welcome to Who’s the Boss, Baby? I’m Bob Wattums. There are a few things coming in hot from my end right now, not the least of which are these trivia questions. 
6. Heather Snawgrass here, and welcome to the biblical quiz show Pope or Nope—the game where you confess your sins or face...YOUR LOCAL CLERGYMAN. 
7. And we’re back with the 100th episode of Romantic Encounter Challenge. I’m your host, Tucker Nepples. Look, my dudes: My dad's gonna stop paying advertisers if I don’t find a suitable mate soon. 
8. And we’re back with another round of Mound Pounders. The game that asks the age-old question: What's better? Almond Joy or Mounds.
9. Welcome back to Spin the Beef. My mom just called and said not to come home. She’s working with raw chicken, and it is Salmonella City there right now. So, sit back and relax because the door’s locked and we gotta kill time or be killed by unwashed meats.
10. Thanks for joining us for another episode of BBQuiz, the cooking game show Guy Fieri refused to host. I’m your host James Schlop. We’re heading right into the palette blaster round. Is the dunk tank ready, Jody?

Trump Tulsa Rally Parody - June 2020

 Scene starts during the Trump rally in Tulsa, Donald Trump walking toward the podium stage, with two commentators near the stage discussing the reactions as if at a sporting event. When the crowd is noted, various shots of raging audiences (growing increasingly bizarre) will be shown.

 [Donald Trump approaches the podium from a very level ramp, his gait slow as the MCs begin.]

DINA

Welcome to the first Trump rally since February. Back then were very different times. Coronavirus was known less offensively as the China virus. And we lost the great institution of Boy Scouts due to bankruptcy and some other minor indiscretions, right Ted?

TED

That’s right, Dina. That was four short months ago, so it’s time to once again congregate and proliferate. I’m looking out in the crowd, and you all are packed like sardines in this stadium, and I couldn’t be more proud. (Shot of crowd waiting for Black Friday store to open) Oh, look, the president is winding up for a strong finish…

[DT trots the last couple steps, cuts to a shot of Bruce Jenner running through the finish line. The crowd goes wild.]

DONALD TRUMP (OUT OF BREATH): 

Thank you, thank you. Did you see that all-out dash at the end? Lamestream media won’t tell you this, but I’m one of the greatest walkers in the world. You know that mom that walks fast around your neighborhood with ankle weights like she has to get to a bathroom toot sweet? She’s no match for Darting Donny. That’s what they called me in gym class. I was part of a kid gang called the Bone Spur Bros.

DINA

OK, hold on a second, this is the moment we’ve been waiting for: President Trump is drinking water. With two…no…ONE HAND. 

[THE CROWD GOES WILD]

TED

This is what the crowd wanted. And he delivered. GOD IS GOOD but Trump is arguably better.

DONALD TRUMP

Well, the great people of Tulsa are here to make America great again… It’s a blowout showing, as usual. Biggest crowd ever assembled in Oklahoma. So big, we had to create a second stage outside, which is now being used as a testing facility for this very event. We have great testing, folks. But if you don’t get tested, you don’t get Covid—it’s simple. (tosses glass of water off stage, breaking /splashing a man, the man weeps happily yet gently with other taking a photo of him)

DINA

The president threw the water glass off stage. And hold on… He’s now eating one of the recently revived five-dollar footlongs from Subway. 

TED

President Trump single handedly created thousands of jobs to support this promotion.

DINA

How many hands around that massive manwich, Ted? Because you can’t single hand a sandwich that big. We know his hands are huge, it’s frankly surprising he ever needs to use both.

TED

You won’t believe this, Dina. He’s not using EITHER HAND. Why tire out those large, powerful hands for holding big, thick bibles when your feet are just as huge. And guess what? Now everyone in America has a foot AND food fetish.

DINA

And that’s already on top of the long tie affixiation fetish.

DONALD TRUMP

Some of you are wearing masks, some choosing not to—I choose not to. I don’t need to because my immune system is so strong. So strong, I have a staff infection. And by that I mean, several of my staff members called off sick today. (Looking over at Dr. Birx.) Could you check on that…check if there’s something going around? Thank you. (A priest approaches the stage.)

TED

OK, we’ve got a priest presenting the Communion wine.

[DT waves both hands away and takes the shot with his mouth. Cut to crowd at Jersey Shore going nuts at a rave.]

DINA

As we know, President Trump does not drink alcohol, but for the Lord, Donald will claim to do anything in his name.

DONALD TRUMP

As you all know, the left-wing extremists didn’t want us here. They’re having their riots, their petitions, their parent teacher conferences, and their hootenannies. Double standard. Double standards from the drifty dems. They’re drifting so far to the left, they want to turn this nation into a Chuck E. Cheese. They want handouts for participating in their silly games. But I won’t let the good name of Pasqually P. Pieplate be tarnished. He’s a hard-working chef and he even lets me play with his balls… The balls in the pit. It’s called a ball pit. That’s what they call it. Hold on, I need to take my daily hydrogen peroxide. (Pops pill)

DINA

Oh, looks like he needs to take some pills. (Trump looks around for something to chase his pills.) But how is he gonna get that down, he threw his glass without his usual divine foresight of knowing it would be needed again.

TED

Look! Someone just threw applesauce on the stage. That’s a nice, thick remedy, and without a spoon it’s best to hold the cup with both hands…and no he’s not doing it!(DT takes shot of applesauce)

MY GOD the crowd can’t handle this. (shot of crowd weeping tears of joy from one of those PBS sermons)

DONALD TRUMP

There are unsubstantiated rumors out there saying that Kpop fans--or as I call them Karate Poppers—bought seats with NO INTENTION of coming. I’m very good friends with the Korean people—they love me and I love their geishas. Yes, the geishas of the orient. A beautiful history. The fake news wants you to believe I have beef with the kpop fans, but the only beef I have is served with broccoli and a side of lo mein.

TED

Looks like the president is about to wrap up.

DONALD TRUMP

I’m looking at this huge crowd (cuts to shot of Phantom Menace opening day at the theater). And the litigious (pronounces light-uh-jis) left wants you to think you’re not here. But you are. And thank you for signing those beautiful pieces of paper saying that you won’t let a cotton swab near your nose for the rest of 2020. The fine print is just that—fine, good-looking words. The best words. And with that, I will now ascend the ramp. God bless these (slurred) reunited cakes.

DINA

And that’s a wrap, Ted. The president putting his money where his mouth is and taking on the difficult journey off the stage, up the ramp, to what we assume is halfway to heaven. 

(Camera on commentators pans to Donald Trump. He climbs into that wheelchair seat that old people take to go up the stairs.)

TED 

Oop, sorry we cut to the wrong feed. (camera pans back) That was President Trump…

DINA

…testing out that wheelchair! He likes to check things out from time to time…