March 26, 2013
I have a piece about living with cancer up today on The Bold Italic. I’m particularly excited about working on this site because the essays all get a beautiful, one-of-a-kind design treatment. This one was done by SF illustrator Brad Amorosino. Hope you take a look!
October 10, 2012
I don’t understand why so many women need occasions like Halloween to justify dressing like a slut. I prefer to let my ass hang out in the summertime, when it’s less cold and less expected.
August 23, 2012
You take a screenshot of an ice cream sandwich food truck menu that’s being featured in an Orange County Weekly Yelp, stare at it all day while getting legitimately, dog-kicking angry that you’re not eating any of the sandwiches at this very moment.
May 1, 2012
– make a gyno appointment
– make a dentist appointment
– go to Saturday morning yoga with Alexis
– clean the bathroom
I’m probably only going to do two of these things this week, tops.
April 1, 2012
Pretty much the only search terms that direct people to my blog are fans looking to write Jonah Hill and people on the prowl for naked ladies. Some of my blog’s most popular search terms from this month:
– best tits 2012
– rebecca tits
– stoner boobs
– “spread my legs for”
– vagina dog costume
– “i do lesbians”
– slut machine (I hope this means someone is mistaking me for Tracie Egan Morrissey!)
– asses and puss
– sex in socks
– big tits of waco
– big boob age 15
– huge boob age 14
Given the overwhelming data, next week I’m shifting the focus of my blog. Going forward, every post will have a picture of my boobs in it. Thanks for the feedback, Google Analytics!
(P.S. April Fools re: incoming nude pics. Not April Fools re: those search stats.)
March 6, 2012
Dear Rush Limbaugh,
I have some questions regarding your statements directed towards Sandra Fluke. According to you, sexually active women who wish their birth control to be paid for are “sluts” and “prostitutes.” By your definition, I am 100% DEFINITELY a super slutty slut prostitute whore. I would never wanna hold an aspirin between my knees, ya know what I’m sayin’? Since I guess that makes me a prostitute, I think it’s high time I start getting paid! But first, I’d like to ask you a few clarifying questions:
– I originally got on birth control when I was 13 because my avid athleticism messed with my period. But, I didn’t lose my virginity (or do anything sexual, for that matter) until I was 18. Should I be compensated for those five years where I was an implied slut because I was taking a slut pill?
– When I did start having slut sex, I lied about being on the pill so boys wouldn’t argue about wearing condoms. Will I be penalized for lying about the degree of my sluttiness, or rather, should I be paid extra for using two forms of slut control?
– In college, I was raped by an acquaintance, and I thanked God that I was on the pill because it meant, on top of everything else, that I didn’t have to deal with a pregnancy scare. I feel like being forced into compromising slut positions would earn me a mini bonus, but I was wondering your thoughts on this?
– Later in college, I got ovarian cancer. While I wasn’t quite feeling up to slutting by my usual degree, I did stay on the pill to regulate my hormones through chemo. Concurrently, my doctor recommended I stay on birth control for the rest of my life to lessen the chances I lose my remaining ovary. My question: Having one less ovary won’t affect my payday, right? I’m just as fertile as I was before, and my boyfriend can attest I’m just as slutty!
– Speaking of, I spread my legs for my boyfriend, like, ALL the time. Constantly. In every room of our apartment. We’ve even done it in public places before… hehe! And Rush, I hope you won’t judge me for this, but I really like it and I don’t plan on stopping!!! As such, will you be sending me a check for these gratuitous displays of slut by mail or by PayPal? See, my boyfriend makes it abundantly clear on a daily basis that it’s a privilege to have sex with me. I inferred from your sex tips that a monetary representation of his gratitude is in order. Orgasms are great, but they don’t pay the bills, ya dig?
Thanks for all your help, Rush. Hope to hear from you soon!
Rebecca Pederson, slut
March 6, 2012
1. To belong as a part, right, possession or attribute.
If reproductive rights do not appertain a woman to use contraceptives free of financial and judgmental burdens and instead warrant her a prostitute, I have one question for Rush Limbaugh: Where is the envelope of cash that’s supposed to be on my nightstand?
February 1, 2012
…but I would steal this baby in an instant.
January 26, 2012
Awww, shit. Do you know what time it is, Left Ovary? Of course you do – when you spend your days alone in my pelvic cavity, you have nothing to do but mark the passage of time!
Let’s take a look at how we celebrated this glorious eventide in years past…
Year 1: Planned an egg-themed party (get it?!?!), but then I got strep throat and canceled it.
Year 2: My roommate and I got hit by a drunk driver while crossing the street to meet our friends at a bar for some celebratory drinks. We were airlifted to Stanford Hospital with broken skulls and hemorrhaging brains; we both almost died. I DO NOT RECOMMEND THIS ACTIVITY AS IT REALLY BRINGS DOWN THE MOOD.
Year 3: Was a little wary of leaving the house after the previous year’s shenanigans. Convinced myself having a near-death experience was some sort of karmic retribution for gloating about surviving cancer when so many people do not. Opted to not celebrate that year.
Year 4: Totally forgot until my mom called me a week later to wish me a “happy belated you’ve-almost-died-twice anniversary!” Hadn’t had a near-death experience that week, which further cemented my theory that not publicly celebrating your remission is good karma.
Year 5: Plan on hiding under my covers while youtubing Beyoncé videos all night.
We’ve come a long way, Lefty baby. Happy five years.
November 22, 2011
Talking about my cancer, which I realize makes me sound like a weird Debbie Downer, but it’s really a celebration! I’m almost five years in remission, bitches, and my remaining ovary shows no signs of pooping out another tumor!
It’s more exciting than a chemo photo shoot: