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.
Oh god you guys this is my hometown. They hired this monster in my hometown and I’m not even fucking surprised. What do I do? Protest? Write a letter? Cry? Bellaire cops were already shady. But this is too fucking much.
okay this is objectively fucking hilarious like I know it’s real but it seems like something out of a parody. I’m supposed to look at this and seriously believe that jude law is lusting after that? that his heart’s most desperate desire is that raw chicken breast with hair? I’m meant to see jude law pining after that absolute saltine of a man and not laugh??
don’t you love when you’re gay and you, go for a walk and see a rainbow. it’s like… that’s for me, damn! anyway the straights can’t see this particular shade of orange so here’s the tea fellow gays: Dark Pride is gonna take place halloween night under the old mausoleum. it starts at 6pm and runs all night. please come in costume. the code phrase to get the coffin to open up and let you access the stairs is “heterosexualis renouncis”
So I had a dream a couple nights ago that Seaworld released an official statement saying that they have no intentions of ever releasing Shamu into the wild and as a protest everyone started making memes about Shamu and posting it all over social media and i opened tumblr, and this was the highest trending post.
Sunshine and Shit Jokes 