Emote

In annoyances, the family refuses to sing the line from Dr Horrible's Sing-Along Blog that has the word "gay" in it, and shush me when I do so in front of the six-year-old. Because I guess any mention of teh gay that's not followed by "is an abomination unto god" will make him gay. Or maybe they just think that him knowing that queer people exist will leave him irreparably scarred. Either way, I am Not Pleased.

In idiocy, advice about sex is generally terrible. Especially things to the tune of "10/25/50/101 things your chick/hunk of man-meat want you to do/not do in bed". Either it's so general that it's useless, or it's too specific to be at best realistic or at worst completely conforming to every gender stereotype ever. Seriously, if you're on the internet or reading a magazine for advice about your sex life, it's probably not going to be fixed by following ten tips.

In delightfulness, The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks was wonderful, with lots of discussion of Foucault and the panopticon, as well as some solid and accessible social theory that played a really interesting role in the story. The main character is likeable and self-aware without being too genre savvy, and the book really captures the process of someone becoming socially aware (perhaps to a point of obsession that's generally only tolerated in absent-minded but very bright sociology professors) and the impact it can have on their life. Here's to hoping a copy shows up at the used bookstore in relatively good condition so that I can snatch it up and make it mine forever.