Basically a dude cheats on his wife at a “massage parlor”, gets paranoid and finds cysts on his dick that are probably harmless, and writes a seven-paragraph-long fucking thing to a doctor saying that he thinks he contracted HPV.
My favorite things are when the doctor says, “Avoid extramarital sex” and when another dude responds saying HE cheated on his wife too, and thank god he didn’t end up having an STD! He’ll never cheat again!
Men are fucking dumb, you guys. Usually I can stop my knee-jerk reaction to say “MEN ARE THE WORST” when I hear about them doing fucked up shit, but I gotta say. Men are fucking dumb.
So Vic told me you made that popular "house rules" picture that circulates tumblr a lot, and I'd just like to thank you
:3 Ohhh, my pleasure.
And Vic, since I know you will read this, I just want to tell you, I was going through some shit in my “MEMORY BOX” AS I CALL IT, and I found the Christmas card you made me. Just reminded me to say here and now that you’re an angel.
Also you guys, I like that VIC is from VANCOUVER and DEE is from DUBLIN. Because that sounds like a line from a Dr. Seuss book, doesn’t it.
“3rd class-business math: same group as the first class but the one black kid in the whole school was there also. he was sitting away from the rest of the kids so i sat down next to him and asked how he liked this school. his exact words, “i fucking hate this goddamn school.” we bumped fists. we ended early since it’s the first day and now i’m on my 3rd beer.”—bringtheruckuss: my day substitute teaching at a private christian school
[ten feet out of the subway station] Guy in his 30s: Have a good night, beautiful.
[rounding the corner to my block] Some old dude: Smile, precious. Show them pretty teeth. Me: Oh FUCK you.
I don’t tend to read a ton of feminist stuff on the internet, but I saw one thing the other month that really stuck with me and I’m going to paraphrase it now: a male college student was taking a class on gender. One day in class the professor drew a vertical line down the center of the board and wrote “men” on one side and “women” on the other. The professor then asked the male students what they did on a daily basis to prevent themselves from being raped. Between all of the men in the lecture hall, they came up with two bullets and they were things like “wear clothes” and “don’t wander into dark alleys.” After about five minutes the men had nothing left to say, and hadn’t come up with any more ideas. The professor then asked the same question of the women, and they filled their side of the board over the next 45 minutes. “Avoid eye contact,” “cross the street,” “hold my keys just in case I need to defend myself,” etc etc etc. I wish I could find a link to wherever this story is, but I can’t remember where I read it — regardless, the thing that stuck out to the guy who wrote it was how much time a woman has to spend in a state of defense on a given day.
I bring this up because I’m in a weird place tonight. My heart feels heavy, I’m generally lethargic and no good for being around people. All I wanted to do when I got off the train was trudge this ass home. My arms were crossed. My eyes were down. I was probably frowning without realizing it because I’m apt to do that. Of course none of that should matter, but I say it to illustrate that I was not inviting conversation. I was not sitting at a booth with a sign that said, “Reach out to me. I’m dying to know how looking at me makes you feel.”
But the mere fact that I was there, on a sidewalk, in a public space, made three separate individuals feel entitled to throw out innuendos like confetti and it’s just exhausting. And I know it’s well-worn territory, and I know the most irritating people you met at your small liberal-arts college loved to talk about this shit, but there really aren’t the right words for how awful it made me feel tonight. How I’m not even allowed to have my own shitty moments in this world because a fucking stranger is entitled to interject. And convention calls for me to walk away and pretend I didn’t hear it — to just absorb that energy like it’s something I had coming.
This is why people get old and angry. Too much of this.
Do I think those men meant to make me feel unsafe? No. Do I think that, had this happened on a different night, I might not have dropped an F-bomb on a 70-year-old? Absolutely. But do I think that, even for a minute, myself, or your sister, or your girlfriend have any less of a right to be on a fucking tract of pavement without presenting a five paragraph essay as to why we are a peer and not a pork thigh on a hook? Suck my dick.