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Once I worked as an intern in the state capital. One of the representatives I worked for was this middle-aged guy. And he hated the tampon and napkin machines in the women’s bathrooms. Hated them. He insisted that they weren’t necessary.
I found out why after I’d been working there, oh, about a month. My period started suddenly, as it sometimes does, and I asked to excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room. He wanted to know why. I told him.
He started ranting about how lazy women were. How we wasted time. How we were so careless and unhygenic, and that there was no call for that. He finished by telling me that I certainly was NOT going to the ladies’ room and that I was just going to sit there and work. He finished this off with a decisive nod, as if I’d just been told and there could be no possible argument.
“If I don’t go,” I said in an overly patient tone, “the blood is going to soak through my pants, stain my new skirt that I just bought, and possibly get on this chair I’m sitting in. I need something to soak up the blood. That’s why I need to go to the bathroom.”
His face turned oatmeal-gray; an expression of pure horror spread across his face. He leaned forward and whispered, “Wait, you mean that if you don’t go, you’ll just keep on bleeding? I thought that women could turn it off any time that they wanted!”
I thought, You have got to be kidding.
Several horrified whispers later, I learned that he wasn’t. He actually thought a) that women could shut down the menstrual cycle at will, b) that we essentially picked a week per month to spend more time in the bathroom, i.e. to goof off, and c) that napkins and tampons were sex toys paid for by Health and Human Services. I didn’t know the term then, but he believed that tampons were dildos. Which was why he and a good number of his friends considered them luxuries.
And that’s how, at twenty, I had to give a talk on menstruation to a middle-aged married state representative who was one of my bosses. American politics, ladies and gentlemen.
i was on the train and 3 drunk girls saw me and said i had nice brown eyes so they sang “brown eyed girl” to me
I threw up at a frat party and I was crying in the bathroom and a drunk girl went upstairs to get me a shirt and came back with a sweater and a kitten.
At the last party I went to three drunk girls fishtail braided my hair by committee
a drunk girl drew an eye on the back of my hand and then patted it with satisfaction and whispered “count olaf”
once at a barbecue a drunk girl gave the surgical scar on my shoulder a butterfly kiss and said “you’re cured”
A drunk girl at a bar I was at became worried that I wasn’t getting enough nutrition and proceeded to hold peanuts to my lips and just keep saying “peanut peanut” until I would eat it. And after I allowed her to feed me a peanut she pet my hair and said “Thank you”.
Drunk girls, saving your life one wtf at a time.
Girls are a fucking gift don’t let anyone tell you otherwise
You’re letting your kids watching Disney movies which have:
naked women
a fucking stripper mouse
Satan
A 70 year old man enslaving a fucking 15 yr girl, giving her sexy outfits and calling her pussycat
This fucking movie
Drinking and smoking
Voodoo….
….which results in him, literally getting dragged to hell
And murder
But for some reason, a 4-second lesbian couple (or any future LGBT characters) is too inappropriate for your kids because now Disney is “perverted, evil, and it’ll brainwash your kids.”
