Tag Archives: PMS

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.

 

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Thank You Note to Eve


Dear First Woman of the Earth, Eve-

I would like to take this opportunity to thank you for being a complete dumbass, and NOT listening when God told you not to eat of the Tree. If you had never eaten the fruit, I would have never had this chance to acknowledge you, as we all would have been sauntering around naked in flawless bliss in the Garden of Eden. Instead, I shall mention just a few of the ways in which your transgression has affected my life…

Without you, Eve, I never would have gotten to suffer the utter embarrassment of getting my first period in 4th grade, at school, with my life-blood seeping through my skirt for all to see, or my mother announcing to the ENTIRE family at Labor Day brunch, “She’s a woman now!”

I would never have gotten to endure the past 20 years of excruciating menstrual cramps, or known about the joy of ass-piss without having had food poisoning. I look forward to the next approximate 20 years I have of enjoying these lovely side affects of having my moon-flow. Thank you, also, because only an entire bottle of brandy will keep me from curling up into a fetal position from the pain.

Eve, my gratitude is never-ending, for the sin you committed that day, and for the fact that I get to spend my last $5 of the week on super-absorbent tampons, instead of putting it toward the fabulous black patent-leather shoes with leopard-print stillettos that I had my eye on, because my cooch resembles the beginning battle scenes of Saving Private Ryan.

You have not only touched me. My Rockstar will also forever be indebted to you, as he is now subject to the mood swings of the Fiend -Formerly- Known- As-His- Girlfriend. I will attest to the fact that he basks in the recognition that at any given moment, I may just decide to whip a butcher knife in his direction, or burst into hysterics. Why would he ever look for another woman? He’s got 7 different personalities right here.

I appreciate the fact that because of you, Eve, I will not be having anything remotely resembling a Skinny Day for the next 5-7 days and that my face is shining radiantly with excess grease and pimples. Stretchy pants and zit cream are a fashionable necessity to my wardrobe.

All in all, Eve, if you had thought about what you were doing before your  narcissistic self disobeyed God, we women would have never had the joy of bleeding profusely from our twats, which would have been unanimously catostrophic. Period.

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