PMS: The Mother(fucker) of Invention

If my pizza place had any sense, they would sell my dinner tonight as some kind of PMS Special. Like a McDonalds combo — you could just ask for the PMS #5 and it’d be nachos and a chocolate milkshake. Or there could be a column system: one salty and one sweet, with an optional drizzle of our house-blended mansplainer tear reduction.

Yeah, this should definitely be a thing.

Vagina burrrn (in a GOOD way!)

Via Sex with Timaree:

I know the difference but still say “vagina” because I am a popular-use conformist. But I love that a dictionary site chimed in to correct this dude.

Also, not just that he corrected a woman, and a gynecologist, but he also went and corrected…The Guardian? Ballsy choice, sir. A ballsy choice about vaginas.

(The whole thing is funny if you have a few minutes to kill.)

🎶 Fly, Eagles, fly, on the road to man-splain-ing… 🎵

I know a few men who will see me on Facebook offhandedly saying I don’t understand something and then JUMP to explain it to me in my DMs, 1) as if I don’t have Google, and 2) as if I care.

I don’t need to understand everything, especially sports. I do not care how the Eagles won the game last night. And no one is rewarding me with orgasms or snacks for pretending I care, soooo I’m not gonna. Run along.

Condescension is a bold choice here.

Let us all salute this brave man for coming forward to correct my assessment of MY OWN SENSE OF HUMOR in my online dating profile. Phew! Thank GOD you were here, sir.

Like a turducken of condescension

I’m not sure, but I think a man just mansplained another mansplainer to me, and now my head hurts.

Sometimes I’m funny.

Dude…NO.

Maybe 2 years ago I deleted a college classmate from Facebook because we’d never really talked other than that time he man-splained cell phone plans to me. I get enough of that shit from the men (and women) in my family, thanks. Boy, bye.

I think today is the…third (fourth?) time since then he’s sent me a new friend request. And once there was a direct message asking where I’d gone.

The first few times I denied his request, I felt kinda mean, because “It’s just Facebook,” but now…nah. I feel pretty OK about this choice. And about blocking him so he can’t do it again.

Tell me what I want, what I really, really want…

My OkCupid profile says I’m “essentially looking for friends with benefits, but actual FRIENDS, with potential for something more if it eventually evolves.”

Today I get this first message: “Hey Smug..I tried fwb,..it doesn’t work. There’s always problems with feelings..someone always loses control.”

That’s the whole message.

Um…OK. See, what you wanted to say there, quietly and only to yourself, was: “This woman wants different things than I do. I will proceed calmly to the next profile.”

Not, “This woman is wrong. I must tell her why she is wrong, and that will be ALL I write, because SHE HAS TO KNOW SHE’S WRONG!”

What’s your endgame here, sir? What am I supposed to say?

“OMG, you’re right, Internet Stranger Who Clearly Has No Issues At All! I never thought of that! Tell me, Marlon Rando, what do YOU think I should want instead? Eagerly awaiting your wisdom, Smug.”

I need men for many things.* Explaining my needs to me is not one of them.
*Their hands. Mouths. Voices. Arms. Teeth. Body weight on me. Hips and the ability to thrust them…
Wait, sorry, what was I saying?

No, really. Tell me more about things you don’t know.

My OkCupid profile says I’m going to my niece’s birthday this weekend “with an irresponsible quantity of My Little Pony gifts,” and a man just sent me the following first message:

“Considering your propensity for my little pony gifts – do you worry you may be spurring your niece to be a brony in the making? (Yes, that is a real word – after the likely google search – you are welcome 😉 )”

Um, have YOU Googled it…? Shitheel.

I’d write back to correct him, and to remind him Bronies are awesome, but he already bugs me. You think you’re dropping some Pony science on ME? Pfft.

I have officially become a master of inferring probably-nonexistent condescension.

P.S. I emailed a friend about this, and she replied, “Idiot. Girls are Pegasisters. Duh.”

Selly Celly

I almost never say “mansplaining,” but I absolutely just had it happen to me, via a Facebook friend I rarely talk to. (Come to think of it, I don’t know why we’re Facebook friends. I will remedy that.)

 

I mentioned I was going to a cell phone store, NOT requesting help in any way. But he climbed straight up my ass: “What do you need? Oh, a new phone? What kind? Have you been with them long? You might be better off calling to find out what they’ll offer you for customer retention. You should wait to see what they’re offering for Black Friday. And other stores might have better deals. Be careful with the plans they offer you. Check if it’s an authorized retailer or a franchise store, that might affect what they can give you.”

 

*looking around* Um…I AM literate, right? To read makes my speaking English good? I’ve had a cell phone for 15 years. I think I got this. Also, I am a grown woman who’s worked in retail and shopped for things allllll by myself for a good portion of my life. I know sales BS when I hear it, and I CAN do math (if given enough time and a pencil and paper). Under the T&A, I promise there’s a fairly functional adult. True story: they let me drive a car and everything. I am going to a store to get information. If the information pleases me, I will make a purchase. That is how shopping works.

 

Sidebar: my current phone is possessed such that I don’t care about Black Friday. I will spend money to guarantee I’m NOT phantom dialing obscure contacts without touching the phone. (Thankfully I deleted all my ill-advised “dates” from the phone, so it can’t call anyone dangerous, but it’s still not optimal.)