Tag Archives: robots

Avabot 9000: the consequence.

24 Dec

When I really, really need to focus, I like to pretend I’m a cyborg. In my mind, laser beams shoot from my eyes that evaluate my surroundings that determine, mathematically, the probability that I will crash into something, or the impending doom that awaits me if I choose a certain route. So far in the twenty-three years of my life, this tactic has kept me safe, but most importantly, incredibly entertained.

The cyborg feature of my imagination comes in most handy when I’m driving in inclement weather. The laser beams shoot from my eye sockets and check the road conditions as I’m driving. (Black ice — function: eliminate acceleration. activate blind scientific faith. jesus, take the wheel, por favor.) I haven’t had any issues or malfunctions.

As with everything in life that comes in handy, especially when trying to determine the possibility of allowing a gentleman suitor to escort me home (evaluate: popped collar, etnies, gum chomp. determination: major bro. likelihood of venereal disease acquisition: imminent. recommendation: accept vehicular transport. feign illness. coital denial imperative) the robotic feature to my demeanor has also helped in situations of absolute unpleasantness. 

In general, I’m a fan of the holidays. Food, gifts, family, and all the shit that comes along with it is for the most part enjoyable. This year? I’ve put serious consideration into taking up alcoholism as a New Year’s resolution.

2013 will be the Year of the Drunk. Check your Chinese calendar and look out, folks. Shit ’bout to get real.

I’ve also become considerably more hood since I started dating Team Jacob. He gets his name because he looks like Taylor Lautner in the first installment of Twilight. He’s been asking me out for the last year and a half, and I’ve finally taken him up on the offer and find him absolutely charming and adorable. Both of those qualities I hate, because they make me like him, and liking him goes against my robotic nature. He’s shaved his head since the dubbing of Team Jacob, but that’s his best identifier. And you know how I’m a fan of identifiers.

At any rate, this holiday season has really brought out the drunk ass mess that’s been locked up in me. My younger sister — three years my junior — is newly engaged. My older sister’s boyfriend, two days after the engagement of my younger sister, asked my father’s permission to marry my sister.

While I’m delighted that they both found happiness or whatever, I also kind of want to find myself in the bottom of a bottle of tequila. With the worm.

Nestled up next to its wrinkles.


This evening was a delightful celebration of the wondrous cheer and fruitful love that the holidays bring. My parents invited their best friends, their sons, and their sons’ wives to dinner. While we gathered in the kitchen, basking in the warm scent of roast and sipping the savory Merlot I brought, exchanging obligatory congratulations to the new engagements, my younger sister looks to me and says, “I’m sorry, Ava. This winter’s been rough for you, huh?”

“Yeah, it totes has. I cry myself to cleanliness in the shower while I’m clutching the empty bottle of tequila. If only I had a man in my life to pass me the limes while I curl up in the fetal position on the floor of the tub, scraping away the scales forming as a result of loneliness and desperation. P.S., I’m pregnant. And the baby could be one of four races.”

So I raised my glass, toasting to the local economic boost due to the increase in alcohol sales.

Six glasses of wine later, she gave me shit for not cleaning the dishes. My reply? “Yeah, sorry bro, I’m not training to be a housewife. That’s all you. And hey, can I get a refill on this glass? It’s almost empty.”

Fuck the holidays.

But in all seriousness, I was extremely grateful for Avabot 9000 at this particular junction in my life. He/she/it allowed me to keep a smile on my face with mechanical interaction to the guests.

Now, if only I could get Avabot 9000 to serve as a permanent stand-in to all family holiday parties. She can keep her shit together better than I can.


P.S., I love the fact that I used “robots” as a tag in this blog post. I feel like I’d totally be okay if the world ended.

Let’s talk about sex(ual harassment training) baby.

30 Oct

So about a month ago, unbeknownst to me, I was supposed to have completed online sexual harassment training. I got a passive aggressive email from my boss today, informing me that I need to complete this online training immediately so the certificate of completion can be sent to HR (I asked for a copy so I can frame it).

As I’m going through the myriad of lessons about what constitutes sexual harassment, who can sexually harass/be harassed, and quiz questions, I’m Facebook chatting with one of my favorite people, B. Here goes part of that conversation:

Me: I get to do online sexual harassment training.
I’m doing it now, as a matter of fact.
You should be jealous.

B: Well. Good thing you don’t work for me.

Me: I personally disagree with everything in here.
It said that sexual harassment can lower employee morale.
Personally, I’m much more motivated to work when I’m being sexually harassed. I’m also more motivated to look nice, which increases productivity.

B: I’m still laughing about the PCD night. [See “Sexy like a cotton ball” blog]

Me: Me too.
I’m learning about quid quo pro sexual harassment. I love the way it was explained: “this for that, so if quid pro quo sexual harassment occurs, a supervisor (or other manager) has requested sexual favors in exchange for providing job benefits–or a supervisor (or other manager) has threatened to deny job benefits in order to gain sexual favors.”

B: So, is there such thing as supervisor with benefits?

Me: And not health benefits. But yes.

B: Well, good sex is healthful.

Me: I’m slightly offended. All of the images are of an old black man.
He repositions himself expressing disdain to emphasize the tone of the computerized voice. Like the news he’s getting about sexual harassment is getting progressively worse, and he’s seriously reconsidering working for this company based on their policies.

B: What, old black men need ass, too.
Heh heh. I said “old.”

Me: It just seems slightly racist.
Old white men need ass, too.
So do old black women. Or old white women.
E’erybody need ass.


Me: Nailed it.

B: Clearly, you can’t answer that without knowing whether he’s hot.

Me: Clearly! Stupid online training… It’s so unrealistic. Obviously there are always mitigating circumstances. 

B: Written by asexual robots. Which is prolly redundant.

Me: “You just learned about quid quo pro sexual harassment. But wait, there’s more types of sexual harassment! There are TWO types of sexual harassment: there’s also hostile environment sexual harassment!”
I gained a regular booty call from sexual harassment at work.

B: And if they AREN’T hot, isn’t it all harassing?

Me: Exactly.
If the person is hot, it’s flattery. If they’re ugly, I’ll scream.

B: There’s your seminar.
Eew? Harassment. Ahhhh! Not.

Me: Precisely.
I’m hoping that’ll come out.
That’s what she said.

B: I thought she hoped it would stay in.

Me: Trick question. The scenario was a woman who supervises this guy she wants to have sex with and asks him out on a date. He’s also interested, and gladly accepts. Sexual harassment or no?

B: Applying the “Eew/Ahhh” rule, nope. Hope they hook up like rabbits. Good for them.

Me: That’s how I answered. There really should be a fill in the blank option. Here’s my favorite:

Fact: Ethel and Lucille work together in a software firm. Ethel often makes inappropriate comments about Lucille. Lucille is offended by Ethel’s remarks.
Fact: Ethel is an ugly name, therefore it is sexual harassment.


How much longer? The thingy. You’re watching. For work.

Me: I’m 41% done because I keep stopping to screenshot it and laugh hysterically.
Also, because although there’s text I could easily skim through, I like hearing the robot voice man say “sex.”
It’s like C3PO teaching me about sexual harassment. When he describes the scenarios, it’s almost like dirty-talk. 

B: Cold. But long lasting.
Probably not much of a cunnilinguist.

Me: I just pictured the scene in Dumb and Dumber with the frozen pole. A fill in the blank option would be fantastic. I wonder if the computerized voice could be programmed to respond to fill in the blank options. I’m sure it could. I’d talk to it. Call it “tonguefucking C3PO.” See if I can strike a chord, maybe get him to talk about R2D2.

B: That should be a model of C3PO. Normal C3PO, and Toungefucking C3PO. I wonder which model would be more popular.

Me: Clearly the TF C3PO. Nerds gotta get some, too. Tappin’ dat ass.

B: Especially nerds.
Not to be confused with the discontinued YOLO C3PO. You Only Lick Once. “Dumped him.” “Why?” “HOLO.” “Bastard.” See also, “SOSO.”

Me: “How’s that femmC3PO?” “She’s so-so, also SOSO, so, that’s really why she was so-so.”

B: Would one tap femmC3PO’s ass, or tink it?
Ditto, the tin man.

Me: Tink is more aesthetically pleasing.

B: “With a tink and a squeak, he shuddered as his hot oil shot across her sweaty navel…”
Ava, on her online sex training, “I really thought this would have more helpful ‘how-to’ information.”

Me: Yet another sexual encounter ending with disappointment.
And gin.

B: Well, there’s always gin and a dangerously hot bath.

Me: That’s what I call a Monday night.

Since I was otherwise occupied with above conversation, I crossed my fingers and hoped to FSM (Flying Spaghetti Monster) the sexual harassment training I learned from watching the episode “Sexual Harassment” on The Office would come in handy.

It totally did.


P.S., for more screenshots from my online sexual harassment training, see new page “Sexual Harassment Training.” 

Feminist Teacher

educating for equity and justice



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