Megan Amram

Megan Amram

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LEGITIMATE RAPE!

This week former congressman Todd Akin reaffirmed his beliefs that victims of “legitimate rape” can’t get pregnant & that the female body “has ways to try to shut that whole thing down.” A lot of people don’t believe him, but that’s why I’m here! To explain why he’s DEAD RIGHT, using SCIENCE!!

Preorder my book “SCIENCE…FOR HER!" at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and Indiebound for more science…for her!!

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~*~LADIES!~*~

Check out this fun & flirty behind-the-scenes video from the cover shoot for my upcoming book “SCIENCE…FOR HER!”

And preorder at…

Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Science-For-Her-Megan-Amram/dp/1476757887/ref=tmm_hrd_title_0?ie=UTF8&qid=1397162122&sr=1-1-catcorr

Barnes & Noble: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/sciencefor-her-megan-amram/1118892256?ean=9781476757889&itm=1&usri=9781476757889&cm_mmc=AFFILIATES-_-Linkshare-_-PwUJvmDcu1U-_-10:1&r=1,%201

Indiebound: http://www.indiebound.org/book/9781476757889

~*~YOU GO, GIRL!~*~

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HAPPY FATHER’S DAY, MOM

This year I finally bought one of those mini souvenir Oscar statues that they sell all over Los Angeles. They’re fitted with witty, positively biting plaques such as “Best Stoner,” “Hottest Wife,” and “Coolest Cody,” (who the hell knows any cool “Codys,” let alone “Coolest”?). As truly side-splittingly hilarious as they all were, I didn’t think twice. I coughed up my $12 for the “Best Dad” model and gave it as a gift to the best father a girl could wish for: my mom, Dr. Carol Ellen Lee.

I honor my mother on Father’s Day because, when my twin brother and I were four months old, my father left my family. Or in Internet parlance, “unfollowed” us. You might be thinking that that sounds like a despicable thing for a father to do, but remember – I made very bad small talk at that age! I mooched off dad’s money, and my resume was lacking in all marketable skills. My brother refused to split the check when we went out to dinner! Ever! It was quite a hostile environment for a grown man. So he went splitsies (I think that’s the legal term??). He went AWOL. Oh, excuse me, typo: “A-HOLE.” He went a-hole. While he was vaguely in and out of our lives as small children, I haven’t spoken to him in almost fifteen years now. I mostly regret that I don’t know what he thought of Avatar!

I’m not interested in disparaging my father. One, because then there’d be nothing to explore in my future one-woman show “My mother’s Jewish, my father’s Jewish, and I’m Jewish! And HUNGRY! FOR DADDY’S HUGS…AND KNISHES!” (running off-off-Broadway in a meat locker in Detroit). But two, because I truly don’t feel any emotional wounds. It is not enough to say that my mom was the best mom anyone could’ve asked for. She was a superwoman. A champion. An Übermensch (German for “female Uber driver.”)

My mom raised my twin and me entirely by herself. For you nerds out there, that’s like my mom’s life was a video game and she had to play the whole way through on the “extreme difficult” setting, and still got the high score in record time and found all the Easter Eggs and did all the side challenges and learned all the Ocarina’s magical tunes and got all of Majora’s Masks including Romani’s Mask which took forever. It was a priority of hers that we never notice the deficit that my father’s departure could have left. While working full time as an anesthesiologist, she was still able to make every play performance, every school conference, every sports game my brother and I ever played. And I’m a girl who, in sixth grade, shot a basket on the wrong hoop in a game and missed. I honestly don’t know if that’s more or less embarrassing than making it. If I were my mom I would’ve probably heckled me at my games. I am the most coddled, softest, gooest lady-baby now and there’s not one day that goes by that I don’t thank my mom in my head or on the phone through an elaborate tableau of grateful emoji (“smiley face smiley face money sign eggplant”).

My mom gave me a lot of gifts, but one has become more and more important to me as I grow older. When I was a teenager, I remember offhandedly thanking my mom and her generation for “paving the way for girls my age, because now there’s no sexism. You fixed it for us!” My mother calmly sat me down and calmly looked me square in the eye and calmly advised me that I was mega-wrong (legal term). “Sexism is not dead. I’m sorry, Megan. Society is still backwards and it’s sneaky and it’s going to be here for awhile.” Then she probably made me three lasagnas or something, I was a very large girl at the time, I once ate eight McDonald’s hash browns in a sitting. But this essay isn’t about that, my one-woman show is!

That talk and those lasagnas changed my life. Because, whoa, newsflash – not everyone thinks women are the best. I started seeing the world as a complex place. There were men who hated women for nothing. There were women who hated other women for nothing. There was violence targeting women, all because we are soft and babies come out of us sometimes in two different types of holes. The world wasn’t the Eden I had formerly seen it to be. Though, maybe Eden is an apt comparison – Eve didn’t have it so great. She was punished for all eternity for eating carbs. I bet Eve made 70 cents to the dollar of what Adam did.

My mother’s mother gave my mom similar advice when she was young: “Get a job where you can support yourself. Don’t rely on a man to support you.” As simple and blunt as this sounds now, I forget how novel a woman’s fiscal independence is. Because of my successful mother, I grew up with the privilege of assuming that my brother and I would make comparable amounts of money. That is crazy! I wish I could tell Susan B. Anthony that. She would dig it. Plus, how PSYCHED would Susan B. Anthony be if she knew she was on a DOLLAR COIN?! She couldn’t vote and now she’s on money that men use to buy stuff like sandals and guns and radishes. Not even a more feminine 70 cent piece! A DOLLAR! And honestly, she’d probably be psyched about the time machine I’d used to visit her, too. I could really make Susan B. Anthony’s day.

I want to thank my mom today for giving me vigilance. It is a gift to be vigilant. A true gift. Too many people, both men and women, are complacent about social mores. (NOTE: I feel like this is the closest I might ever get to sincerely calling Americans “sheeple.” This is a big day for me!!) The gift of awareness is more important than ever. The Elliot Rodger shooting in Santa Barbara last month is just an inflorescence on the noxious weed of sexism and female-targeted violence that crops up constantly throughout this country. This is the norm. I feel that it is a privilege to have had my eyes opened by my exceptional mother. My mom raised a daughter who never once, for one second, thought I was going to be supported by a man. I never once thought I was less capable. That I couldn’t do a job that is still mostly done by men. That I was worse at math. That I was less physically strong. (NOTE: I am very bad at parking and spatial reasoning. My mother and I have both admitted that to ourselves.)

They say that “living well is the best revenge.” Well, you know what’s also good revenge? Revenge. It is easy to be angry. It is easy to jump from awareness of inequality into crushing anger. I myself oscillate between fatalism at the state of the olio of inequalities in our world (gender-based, sexual orientation-based, socioeconomic, racial, religious, handicapped discrimination, etc. etc. etc.) and a burning desire to do something. But my mom taught me that rejecting the status quo is doing something. Succeeding, however quietly and tastefully, chips away at everything. And, while things might not fully change until women can physically match men, or until men can give birth, this is enough. This is the fight.

My mom is a feminist. A goofy, badass feminist. She lives her creed. Possibly even more important than instilling a confidence inside me, she raised a son, my brother, who is entirely respectful of women and who genuinely loves them. My brother is a real “DUDE” (legal term). He loves sports and cars and things and stuff and is still somehow able to love women (I guess technically we fall under “stuff”). And I entirely chalk that up to my mom.

I am not here to indict or praise other families. I only can be in my skin. I’m not a serial killer who kills ladies and puts on their skin, though that’s probably a good way to keep looking young, note to self, look into murder-skin-suits, they’re “in” this summer. Fathers are absolutely incredible. Great fathers are great. Fathers who parent with mothers. Single fathers. Gaylord double-fathers (legal term). Gingerbread men who you give little gingerbread children and then you eat all of them because fuck that family unit, I’m hungry, mommy didn’t make me enough lasagnas. All fathers who choose to be good fathers are good fathers. But plenty don’t, and that’s where certain heroes shine.

My mom is a hero. I wish they had a real award show for best parents. The odds are that thousands if not millions of people are walking around with ill-begotten “World’s Best Mom!” or “Dad!” shirts like GODDAM FRAUDS. I would love to have a real world’s best mom competition for those shirts or mugs. Because I’m pretty sure my mom could stand her ground with the best of them. Side note: I am selling this competition show to a highly reputable network as we speak for millions of dollars. Cha-CHING, LOSERS!!

Today is not just “Father’s” Day. Today is a day to honor whomever raised you. Your father, your mother, your grandparents, a fire hose, a gingerbread man, your television. Actually, yeah, definitely your television. Everyone, buy your television some golf clubs. But in addition to TV, the world is filled with beautiful humans who do a lot of good in their unfathomably short time in this smudge of consciousness we call life. They combat violence and hatred and complacency in whatever way they can, and the kindness and selflessness of them all fill me with excruciating joy, and ineffable sadness, and hunger for lasagna.

I love you, mommy. Happy father’s day. 

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FATHER’S DAY SNEAK PEEK

Want to make your papa-daddy’s father’s day extra special??? PREORDER MY BOOK “SCIENCE…FOR HER!” for him at Amazon and Barnes & Noble and Indiebound! “SCIENCE…FOR HER!”: it’s not just for her anymore!

HERE’S A SNEAK PEEK FOR YOU, DADDY!! I MISS YOU!!!!! ;):

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MADre LIBS

If you forgot to write your mom a Mother’s Day letter, use this template for a last minute quick-fix! (And preorder her my book “SCIENCE…FOR HER!” at Amazon and Barnes & Noble and Indiebound!)

Dear [pet name for “mother”],

It’s me, [your name]. You know, your [numerical ranking]-favorite child. I just want to wish you a[adjective] Mother’s Day. Over the years you have been just like a [family member] to me, and I can’t [verb] [noun] enough.

Over the past [number of years of your age; add one if your mother strongly believes life begins at conception], you have done so much for me. You were in labor with me for [funny number] of hours, and I will always appreciate that, even though [name of least favorite sibling] might not be as appreciative as I am. P.S. I heard [name of least favorite sibling] telling [name of postman or green grocer] that (s)he takes [type of hard drug] all the time. (S)he puts it right in the [name of vein in the human foot]. You were right, [pet name for “mother”][outdated 70s slang for marijuana] is a gateway drug.

You are so full of love. Your heart is as big as [name of a fat Kardashian]. You taught me all I know about love by being such a good companion to [name of father][name of mother’s other husband], and [name of mother’s longtime current boyfriend Richard]. Who cares that [name of mom’s boyfriend Richard] was super inappropriate when I was a teen and [past tense verb] me on the [inappropriate body part]. I get it. You needed to have a man like [Richard] around to make you feel protected. His braveness was as huge and voluminous as [name of a fat Kardashian]. Though I hope you understand when I say that I hope he’s locked up in [local prison] for [funny number] years!

You are as patient as a [patient thing]. Like when you sewed my Halloween costume of [sweet 90’s reference] all night. I love when you made us Rice-A-[word that rhymes with “Kony” [“Kony” counts]]!

I always loved seeing you [number of hours in a day]/[number of days in a week][pet name for “mother”]. There were so many nights that I stayed up for you, wondering where on [funny planet] you were, worried you were bleeding out from your [funny body part], and you came home at [time that a child should be asleep, I had to go to school the next for crissake mom plus I had to pack lunch for [name of least favorite sibling] since you didn’t] and said [quote that your mom said about Richard needing her to bail him out of the local Oregon Jail AGAIN but it’s like mommy I need you too Richard only just came into your life and he has a tattoo of Babar on his neck what the fuck is that about in a grown man, did he kill an elephant???? Or like is he just a pedophile and that’s how he attracts kids, that tattoo]. So I get it. But also [synonym for “fuck,” also you could just pick the word “fuck” to go here, I would!] Richard with a [funny pole or stick]. L.O.[Letter that begins the word “laugh”].!

[Pet name for “mother”], wherever you are, I hope you and [Richard oh man I can barely write his name, I need to call my therapist brb] are happy. In conclusion, you were so much better a mother than [Kris Jenner]. I [verb] you, [pet name for “mother”].

[adverb],

[your name]

 

P.S. [name of least favorite sibling] stole all the copper wire from the walls of the laundry room.

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SCIENCE…FOR HER!

What’s up, everyone! How have you been? Did we ever find the plane?

With that, I am overjoyed to announce that my book SCIENCE…FOR HER! comes out NOVEMBER 4, 2014, published by Scribner.

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Science…For Her! is a science textbook written by a lady (me) for other ladies (you, the Spice Girls, etc.) It has been demonstrated repeatedly throughout history: female brains aren’t biologically constructed to understand scientific concepts, and tiny female hands aren’t constructed to turn most textbooks’ large, extra-heavy covers. I’ve written a fun, flirty, Cosmopolitan-like textbook that is tailored to you, ladies. And men, don’t be scared away! You’ll enjoy it too, especially if you’re dumb or gay!!

You can already PREORDER the book at Amazon and Barnes & Noble and Indiebound.

It was truly a pleasure to write this book, and if you enjoy reading it even half as much as I enjoyed writing it, I will be a little disappointed! Because I hope you enjoy it thirty times as much!

LOVE YOU ALL, best friends!! xoxoxo!

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Corrections

The New York Times would like to issue corrections for the wedding announcement of Mr. Adam Penview to Ms. Katie Jasper that ran in yesterday’s paper.

We incorrectly identified in the announcement that Mr. Adam Penview and Ms. Katie Jasper were married at the Church of the Holy Trinity in Manhattan. They were married at St. Brigid’s.

Additionally, we inaccurately wrote that the groom “attended Cornell University and double-majored in English and Humping Other English Majors’ Girlfriends.” Mr. Penview, in fact, only majored in English. He did not major in “Humping Other English Majors’ Girlfriends,” as that is not currently an existing track of study at Cornell or any other accredited university.

We erroneously wrote yesterday that Mr. Penview was the “son of Dr. Ryan Penview, a third-generation ophthalmologist, and Mrs. Claire Penview, a Zuckerberg-ass beaver-bitch.” Mrs. Penview practiced law in New York State until 2004, and is considered by many to be a friendly and beautiful member of her community, bearing no resemblance whatsoever to Mark Zuckerberg or his rear end. “Beaver-bitch” is not a profession.

We mischaracterized the bride as having worn “a peace [sic] of shit mayonnaise tent. Also, you know how sometimes people see the Virgin Mary in stuff? It was like that, except you could see Hitler in the wedding dress, but specifically because she had hand-embroidered a picture of Hitler in her dress.” In truth, Ms. Jasper wore Amsale.

We incorrectly noted yesterday that the couple met “while the bride was dating the totally devoted and now very successful Assistant New York Times Wedding Section Editor Dan Gould. Dan guesses he just wasn’t good enough for you Katie, because you had to go hump that piece of shit Adam Penview that you met at the English major mixer while Dan left Ithaca for the weekend to go to his Nana’s 90th birthday in Needham, Mass. Dan even brought you back a hat from the birthday party that said ‘Ethel’s Doin’ It For One Night Only.’ FYI, Adam, it counts as incest if you sleep with another English major’s girlfriend, since English majors are BASICALLY BROTHERS. Nana will live forever!!!” Though factually correct, the New York Times apologizes for the way in which Mr. Penview and Ms. Jasper’s first meeting and relationship history were portrayed. Additionally, the hat actually read “Ethel’s Not 90…She’s 89.95 Plus Tax.” She has since passed.

We wrote that the couple was married by “a dildo with googly eyes, which is the kind of freaky stuff Adam is into.” They were married by Father Norman Murray. Additionally, Mr. Penview is into regular stuff.

Yesterday, we printed that “God Katie sorry I’m writing all this I’ve taken a lot of Robitussin you are so beautiful. You look like a young Nancy Kerrigan. Oh God I love you.” In fact, Mr. Gould had only taken a moderate amount of Robitussin.

We wrote yesterday that “Katie sorry you can’t fucking deal with my Jew strength you blimp-bitch.” Ms. Jasper, in truth, can deal with said Jew strength.

Yesterday, we wrote “Katie, I’m so sorry, oh God, please come back, I think you can get weddings annulled really easily, it’s like a five-second rule type thing. Also Adam, I’m really sorry about all the googly eye stuff, I actually think you’re a pretty good guy, I once had a dream that you were a creature that had your torso and face but a gay man’s body and you saved me from Gwyneth Paltrow in ‘Contagion.’ Granted, I had taken a lot of Robitussin that night, but when I woke up I did feel sincerely indebted to the top-half of you.” I don’t know where to start. The New York Times is just so sorry for this entire paragraph.

Hey just kidding about all these things that we said we retracted, we’re just the dumb ol New York Times what do we know about anything but hard candy and old wrinkly balls!!!!!

We wrote in the paragraph above that “Hey just kidding about all these things that we said we retracted, we’re just the dumb ol New York Times what do we know about anything but hard candy and old wrinkly balls!!!!!” In actuality, Dan Gould just broke back into the Corrections Department and stole the computer that I’m writing this on. He has been promptly escorted from the building and arrested. In addition, The New York Times is an extremely current print newspaper that offers breaking unbiased news and fun crossword puzzles. Fuck Dan Gould.

We retract “Fuck Dan Gould.”

We apologize for these mistakes.

2,464 notes

America: A Review

How to begin this review? Few countries that debuted in the 1700s have been as controversial or long running (it’s into its 236th season now) as America. It may not have the staying power of perennial favorites such as China or the credibility of indie darlings such as Finland, but America has proven that it can at least make some cultural impact. It’s not the best, but hey, they can’t all be Louie.

America was originally a spinoff of the long-running England. Airing from the 1776-77 season through today, America focuses on a small ensemble of white people using things in the ground to become rich or kill brown people. A sprawling dramedy, it combines all of the loose plot points of a Tyler Perry sitcom with all the fun of being white.

It has widely focused on the themes of war, freedom, sitting, Fenway Park, maps, the one true Christian god, rugs, pregnancy tits, Vice Magazine, butterfaces, coal, butterdicks, “Where’s the Beef?,” Chicago, Larry Flynt, colonialism, Terri Schiavo, NBC single-camera sitcoms, toddlers, suicide pacts, Atari, penny farthing bicycles, SpaghettiO’s (Cool Ranch flavor), tiny dolls, the TLC show Sister Wives, H1N1, television, and genocide. It has some unique perspective every once in awhile, but honestly, America can be super derivative. Most of the stories have already been on The Simpsons.

A lot of episodes in America don’t really hold up. Slavery? Parachute pants? White slavery? It just feels really overdone now. Among the most memorable episodes are “The Civil War,” “Texas,” “World War” (a two-parter), and “Black President.”

Some of the storylines are also a bit of a stretch. Are they really expecting us to believe that they killed all the Indians and that all those Indians did to deserve it was invent Diabetes?! And come on – that stuff in the 9/11 episode could not have happened without someone working on the inside. That makes no sense. “9/11” jumped the shark. Hard.

It’s been on so long that no one wants to comment on the OBVIOUS PLOT HOLES. Such awful continuity. Like, how could it be explained that in season 170, George H.W. Bush fathered a retarded son, but then in season 225, that son became president?! Really terrible continuity. I would like to point out that I appreciate a recent callback to earlier plots. Around seasons 174-184, some of the anti-feminist and sexist storylines were put on the backburner, but it’s nice that we’ve seen a resurgence in this last season.

There’s a lot of homosexual undertones to the country. The Very Special Episode about Lewis & Clark was revised to not include the fact that they originally named Oregon after the French word for “gay-ween butt-orgy” (“Baguette”). Baseball, the “American Pastime,” is about using bats (“dicks”) to hit balls (“balls”) all while blowing each other in the dugout (“RBI”). And how about the American flag? Obviously 13 dicks going into 50 buttholes.

America has time and time again proved itself as a launching ground for young starlets. It’s fun seeing people before they became huge stars, like John Ritter, Stella McCartney, Theodore John “Ted” Kaczynski, and Ted “Ted” Bundy. But the ensemble works best when we see the regulars yearn for a raise or promotion, struggle with Mary Tyler Moore’s foibles and be there for Mary Tyler Moore when the going gets rough. I stole this from a review for The Mary Tyler Moore Show, but I think it completely and entirely makes sense to literally lift from that review and drop it into this context as well.

As someone with more quirky and alt tastes, I can’t say that America is my favorite thing to watch. I’m more into Breaking Bad. Have you seen season 4?! Season 4 of Breaking Bad is flawless. Season 4 of America is VERY uneven. It had no main black characters. Girls, much?! I love The Wire!

I just hope to God (the American/right one) that they don’t pull some deus ex machina shit at the end of this series. Like, there’s nuclear war with North Korea, or they’ve been dead the whole time or something.

Anyway, it may have veered off wildly from the pilot, but America is definitely worth a look. It’s an interesting experiment in the world of primetime sovereign nations. What the characters lack in consistency, they make up for in body weight, lingering racism, and inconsistency. But it makes for a quick and easy viewing, and can often surprise you with heartfelt turns. It’s like eating Cool Ranch SpaghettiO’s on a warm summer’s eve. And hey, sometimes things get really good right before they’re cancelled.

MY RATING: 50 stars (out of 100).