Needed to get this out of my system this morning. Feeling much better now.
*****

I am a woman. I am also a Mechanical Engineer, an occupation which typically is made up of about 12% women on a good day. So when I'm discussing topics in the realm of gender roles, I think I'm pretty justified in my claim of being a "woman working in a man's world." So, to the world's Feminists, I have this to say:

Shut. Up.

Why this sudden burst of frustration? Oh, nothing momentous, really. Just another straw on this particular camel's back that became a burden too heavy to keep carrying without comment. Recently President Obama arranged to have a basketball game, and according to the media he didn't invite any women. Naturally, feminists are up in arms about the "boy's club" mentality and "sexism in the White House," to which I reply: "I'm sorry, don't you have jobs?"

Seriously. Women all over the world are abused, uneducated, and need help. Even in our own, proud, "enlightened" country. And, with all that, you have the time to complain about a basketball game?

And you wonder why men don't respect you.

You know what happened the last time I didn't get invited to a basketball game? I ASKED IF I COULD JOIN, and then I made a point to be the toughest player on that court. I didn't complain, I didn't whine, I didn't run to Media Mom to make my hurt pride feel better. I shut up, got involved, and proved that I was strong enough and skilled enough to do a damn good job. The next time the boys got together to play, I still didn't get a fancy invitation.

You don't need to send invitations to people who are already a part of your team.

Sometimes, I talk in my sleep. Khan is a night-owl, so often when he comes to bed I've been asleep for hours, but I'll start talking to him when he comes in. He usually tries to engage me in conversation just to see if I'll say anything particularly amusing. This always makes me wonder about my dreams, because it seems for every dream I remember, there must be a lot SO strange I can't recall them. Take, for example, the following exchange, which was just related to me this morning:

Me: "...It is complete."
Khan: "What is complete?"
M: "The Jam Cannon."
K: "What is it for?"
M: "For mopping up the blood."
K: "Oh. Well. You have fun with that."
M: "Yup!"

...Seriously, why can't I remember THAT dream? Instead I get to recall a crappy nightmare. Screw that! Give me back my Jam Cannon, Unconscious!