You Men Just Really Have No Idea


Otherwise entitled- Fuck Ya’ll, You Lucky Sons of Bitches.

Yeah, that’s right. you’re all sons of bitches, because your mothers at some point bled like bitches in heat if only for the reason of giving you fortunate assholes life.

I bet you males never even think twice about what we women have to go through every month, (or every other month, in some cases.)

Not only do women have to sit down to pee, (a fact that still vexes me to no end), but while you guys are just standing up shaking your dicks in front of urinals and nonchalantly going about your cramp-free business, women everywhere are suffering because God decided to get us back for one stupid cunt not listening to him eons ago.

Sure, God got credited with a miracle when He turned the Nile into a river of blood, but a woman produced a river of blood from her own body every month, all she gets is dudes bitching about her being on the rag. What the hell?!

I once had a heartless asshat of a coworker who once stated, “What’s the big deal? Girls have periods from the time they’re teenagers. They should just be able to suck it up and deal with it by the time their in their twenties.” I am certain the homicidal look in my eye after he made said statement was enough to scare him straight. But to be sure, next time one of you fuckers eats 20 lbs. of hot wings and downs a case of beer, I’ll be there when your gut is being wretched and your head is pounding and you have fire shooting out of your ass, lovingly smashing your skull in with a baseball bat yelling, “Come on! What’s the big deal?! You’ve been doing this since college! You should be able to handle it!”

Did you ever think for one bloody second, (pun intended) Men, that when an entire aisle of Walmart is dedicated to a woman’s moon flow, that maybe it’s not such a minor thing? Midol, tampons, maxi pads, hot water bottles, chocolate; the only things dedicated to you guys are hemmorhoid cream and little blue pills, neither of which are even in the same goddamn aisle.

When a girl has to curl up into a ball after taking three Midol and a 5th of brandy, and her insides still feel like someone’s practicing their Boyscout’s knots; when her tits ache for weeks before hand; when she gets sooooo pissed off at you because you’re being a stupid idiot, and she tells you so, just be glad she isn’t stomping on your dick with her stilettos, or her motorcycle boots, or what have you, because I guarantee you there isn’t a one of us who hasn’t wanted to do just that when we’re having our periods.

Have a little compassion for your fellow women.

 

Advertisements

6 Comments

Filed under Beauty, Humor, Life, Uncategorized

6 responses to “You Men Just Really Have No Idea

  1. J.E. Hannon-Cropp

    Hi there, I’m Jo. I was recently nominated for a Liebster Award, you can google it, it’s a thing.
    Anyway from what I understand the whole idea is to spread the love a little bit around WordPress by sharing some writers I enjoy with the people who follow my page.

    Below is the link to my post where I talk about the award and nominate you. I hope you take part., cause it’s fun and stuff.

    http://jojoknowseverything.wordpress.com/2014/05/10/on-liebster-awards-chain-mail-and-community/

  2. I have six sisters, three daughter and a wife. I know how this lion is feeling.

  3. Hey… I never asked to be born a man… I think I got ripped off… I spend all my time feel guilty about things other men do… and to top it off, I am a white man, so I have to feel guilty about all the stuff white people have done… so back off… it is already hard enough… uh… I mean… oh, you know what I mean… (HA!!!!!)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s