Ye Olde Lady Boner

Even Jesus gets a boner when he thinks about Shakespeare, in both the biblical and platonic sense.

As an English major, I feel as if I am expected to get a lady boner over Shakespeare’s plays and sonnets and poetry. Yes, I do get rather excited whenever I hear the name Richard, or think about Titus Andronicus and meat pies. That’s a God damned given. But my hardness comes not from his words, but from his life.

From the research I have done on Shakebag, I can honestly say that I think the man was an honest to goodness asshole. That being said, I love him more for it. The man didn’t hide the fact that he had issues with marriage – the only successful and not damned creepy relationship in any of his plays is the adulterous love between Antony and Cleopatra – and was assumed to be having affair after affair out in London when his wife was back in the country side. If you belong to the camp that assumes Shakespeare died of syphilis, or an illness related to it, then you must also assume that he was a raging man-whore who possibly used his burgeoning fame to bed random women.

OK, you don’t have to assume that he had a litany of women enter his bedchambers, but he had to get the syph somehow and it sure as hell wasn’t from Anne. Speaking of Anne, one of my horribly anti-feminist, mysoginistic, and down right all time favorite things about Shakespeare was the fact that he had left her out of his first will and testament. The man returned to Stratford from London when he thought he was going to die. He hadn’t returned to his home in the country, even his new place at New Place, until six months before he died.

His first will was written none too long after his return, making is nearly a fact that he thought he was dying. Or going to die rather quickly. Hell, if I had the syph back in the seventeenth century I’d retreat into a hole rather than get into one of those communal mercury baths. Just like good old Willy. Anyway, he had written his first will with absolutely no mention of Anne Shakespeare, nee Hathaway. Common law back in that era stipulated that a wife would always inherit a certain percentage of her dead husband’s estate, unless otherwise noted. William went out of his way to leave all of his most valuable belongings and wealth to his eldest daughter Susanna.

If that’s not a huge FUCK YOU to Anne, then I don’t know what is. The fact that I find this not only amusing but terribly lady boner inducing¬† should revoke my chick card for an undetermined amount of time. Shakespeare didn’t like his wife, so he stuck it to her. His brazen honesty is definitely worthy of some wood. Not only did he not include her in the first will, he only allotted her a piddly bed in his revised version of the document.

He didn’t die right away after moving into New Place, which is evident by the fact that I kept referring to his will as his first will. It took him a good six months of suffering to fade into nothingness, which gave him ample time to rethink his will or be pushed into revising his will by an outside party. Perhaps Susanna felt badly for her mother and invoked her father’s love of his daughter to get him to change his mind about slighting mother dearest. Who knows? Not I, said the Kateri. But the fact of the matter is, he did change his mind. In the revised document he left Anne his second best bed. Some scholars get all schmoopy and sappy, lovesick and lovestoned by this as it was common for the second best bed in a household to be the marriage bed – the best bed was reserved for guests.

Hell no – I don’t buy that for a moment. I find the attribution of their second best bed, their marriage bed perhaps, to Anne to be an even bigger slight than being ignored all together. She slept alone in that bed for decades, and he likely died in it. Not very fond memories there. And what more useless thing to gain in a will than a bed when the house is promised to someone else?

That’s right, I enjoy the fact that William Shakespeare likely hated his wife. His resentment toward her and marriage is more than understandable. Then again, don’t most men who get trapped into marriages by pregnancies feel a bit of resentment? Here’s to you most likely being a normal human being with normal human feelings and a supernatural gift of words, William Shakespeare. This boner’s for you.

Plus, his portraits are HOT. Look at the GQMF with his earring. Boing!


On the Sly

While I am only twenty-one years old, and a lady, I find myself highly enamored with action movies. Not the crap that comes out nowadays like Fast and the Furious, Fast and the biCurious (oh wait, that’s Fast and the Furious 2), Kick Ass, Avatar, or anything of that sometimes-story driven ilk, but Rambo, Conan the Barbarian, Predators,¬† Die Hard, Mad Max, Goodfellas… Movies with men who were built to throw a punch or a guy through a wall. Also, Goodfellas might not seem to fit in with that list, but DiNero’s awesomeness sort of guarantees him a spot on any action movie list.

All of those movies have the same common theme – bad ass gets into a rough spot, fights his way out, the day is won, the end. Simple. It’s what everybody essentially dreams of, overcoming seemingly impossible villains/foes/obstacles in equally impossible ways. Rocky’s half brain dead when he fights Drago, but hey! Capitalism always defeats Communism, right? Right! Hoo-rah and all that other American patriotism goes here. But the point here is that the leading man is often times overly muscled, heavily accented, and more often than not is supposed to define the pinnacle of manliness all while fostering some huge chip on his shoulder.

What exactly about these action movies that gives me a lady boner is undetermined at this point. It could be the all out brawls, fists flying everywhere, or it could be the rather obvious humor that anyone could appreciate without having to dwell on the jokes for too long. They’re entertaining movies because they’re simple to understand and are a profound form of escapsism. I enjoy seeing big men punch each other every now and again, so what? I think the main reason any action movie from the past few decades (that was actually worth seeing more than once) gives me a Lady Boner has to do with the starring male. A lot of the movies I like to watch, or even just play in the background while doing other meaningless tasks, star one Sylvester Stallone.

(From Rocky Balboa – Stallone at age sixty. This BAMF has abs of fucking steel at age sixty. There surely is a God, and a God of steroids.)

Sly. The Italian Stallion. Mister Rambo himself. What’s not to like about this man, really? His rather unfortunate facial paralysis didn’t stop him from becoming a house hold name and that I applaud him for relentlessly. Not everyone in Hollywood has to be perfect, though he certainly strives to keep his aging body from looking anywhere near normal for his age. He played the typical underdog role in Rocky. In many of the Rocky movies, actually, but he showed versatility in his other beat em up, kill em dead movies. Rambo wasn’t an underdog, he was a man scorned. John Spartan was a cop scorned, big difference there, really. In any case, whatever movie Sly is in, he’s a god damned bad ass fighting machine.

It’s hard to watch one of his movies and not root for him, unless you’re a souless crone who has nothing better to do than to watch action movies and vie for the assholes who attempt to put the (mostly) common-but-best-at-his-job hard working man in his ‘place’. Stallone is a shorter man, but well built enough. Hell, he’s actually quite like a brick fucking wall. His face is handsome, at least to me, even at his nice old age at 64 he still gives me a lady boner. What brought this to my attention, that I do indeed love Sly Stallone was when I was watching his newest flick The Expendables. Sure, he runs a bit funny in the movie, but all python armed, barrel chested, iron thighed men would hurtle himself through space instead of gracefully dart through the air like Hermes.

The movie itself is worth a lady boner post of its own (which I will do later once I stop drooling over Sly,) but Barney Ross just caught my attention and kept it the entire movie. His ham fisted punches and sometimes stilted lines were captivating like a train wreck. I shouldn’t have found it as entertaining as I should have, but it was epic. His chest was as hypnotizing as hypnotoad himself. Yeah, I was that sucked into the more primal parts of my brain while watching The Expendables, but that’s what a good action movie is supposed to do. I saw ‘strong man saves the day with lots of explosions’ and was literally reverted into a cavewoman who would lust over a man who could beat up the big bad saber toothed cat.

Stallone’s ability to make me like his character, even as underdeveloped as he was, gave me a more subliminal lady boner. A lady boner squared, if you will. He did the ‘right’ thing while risking his own life. A plus for misguided, almost masochistic altruism. A double plus for bleeding like a sexy motherfucker while being altrusitic. Action movies will always entertain me and will always fascinate me – I don’t see why more women don’t like them.

Here’s to you, Sly, you slick, handsome SOB who gives me inappropriate wood.

Hello, party people.

OK, so this is my introductory blathering which will not only be informative, but highly boring. Deal with it. You can scroll past this if you so choose. Getting the most trite and useless information out of the way first I give you my name, Kateri Woody, and gender, female. I like to be hyperbolic, and I am a self-classified nerd.

And a quick side note: Dear Dad, don’t read this blog.

This blog has a purpose, as most do but rarely openly state, to show to the world what I find to be worthy of a lady boner. Now, it might seem crude to some and odd to others to say that one has a lady boner. I find it humorous, and quite less vulgar than I could actually be. But this term actually raises more questions than “Why would anyone want to discuss boners if they are incapable of physically having one?” (Hurr, ‘raises‘)

What the hell is a lady boner? Well, to me, it is a term most often used by women who are rather geeky/nerdy/dorky in nature and who have a strong love of something and or someone that it induces a rather strong reaction. Be that physical, mental, or emotional. Something that is worth drooling over, obsessing over, rambling about, or just plain fucking awesome can cause a lady boner. For example: a new issue of Batman and Robin always causes me to pop a lady boner, even if Morrison frequently makes me want to jab a sharp pencil up my nose in hopes of poking my frontal lobe.

Why I cry myself to sleep at night

I will be discussing movies, television shows, comic books, literature, music, everyday life, and pretty much anything under our yellow sun that gives me a lady boner. If you find this to be at the very least amusing, stay tuned.