Tag Archives: controversy

Clogging the toilet bowl of equality

What fools we are, us women. Prancing around with our right to vote and our equal rights amendment as though they mean something. Thinking we can have our cake and eat it too (and if we eat it standing up in the kitchen it doesn’t have any calories).

Well, I have news for you, America. As much as we say the women’s movement has helped us come a long way, baby, we have been deceived. Like teenagers who get overly excited when a celebrity retweets them, we have been fooled into thinking we matter.

Think I’m crazy? Well, let me just give you an example of how far we haven’t come.

There is a segregated place that women are forced to go to almost on a daily basis that is so perverse, so medieval, so inhumane, it makes one think we haven’t moved forward one iota from the Dark Ages.

Naturally, the place I’m talking about is the women’s public restroom.

Yes, even though we finally have trendy T-shirts featuring Ruth Bader Ginsburg’s face, the fact that we are still forced to use these, dare I say, “facilities,” is outrageous. I mean, we can make someone with Julia Child’s voice a star and yet we can’t come up with a better bathroom system than the current one we have?

If you have never entered into a women’s public restroom (re: you’re a man who didn’t have the nerve as a kid to take the dare from your friends), let me enlighten you.

You’ll first recognize a women’s public restroom by the line outside of it. A line that swoops and curves around in a fashion that should never be seen outside of an amusement park (and only then in cases where it’s a ride that’s going to make you vomit in the fun way). Slowly and painfully do you watch the women in this line zombie shuffle…and shuffle…and shuffle…and shuffle…pausing to let a tumbleweed amble by…and shuffle, until finally they reach the door, where they wait in another line inside the restroom (since there are only two stalls to make way for the gigantic, unnecessary couch in the corner).

Mind you, this whole time their bladders are aching with the fire of a thousand menstrual cramps.

After what seems like a Bugs Bunny cartoon passing of time (the sun went up, sunk down, the moon rose, the sun came back up, back down, the moon rose…) they finally reach the stall door. And here is where the fun part begins.

Whoever was the first woman to decide it would be much more sanitary to “hover” over the toilet seat rather than making actual cheek-to-seat contact should be made to wear diapers and banned from all toilets. As for those of you that continue to “hover,” I’m going to let you in on a little secret.

Contrary to myths circulating fourth grade classrooms the world over, you can’t get cooties from a toilet seat and there is no such thing as a South American poisonous spider that hides under the lids and bites your lady business when you sit down. So sit your happy little ass down. Because you know what happens when you hover? You sprinkle when you tinkle. And you never, ever, clean it up. Which, of course, forces the next woman to hover, and the next, and the next…

BECAUSE NO ONE WANTS TO CLEAN UP YOUR PEE, YOU DISGUSTING HEATHEN!

And then, of course, there are the women who think they need to use a wad of toilet paper roughly the size of a basketball to clean their vaginas when they are done. This, in turn, causes the toilet to clog and also causes a shortage of toilet paper. Which forces the woman in the one lone stall that still has toilet paper to ration it out amongst her brethren, which merely slows down the entire operation and makes the bitter writer at the end of the line seriously weigh the pros and cons of getting a “urinating in public” ticket.

But wait, what’s it like on the other side then, you ask? Well, according to my husband, who for purposes of anonymity I will only identify here by the code name Ryan Hugene Huddle, men have rules of etiquette when it comes to public restrooms.

“When you first walk in and there is already someone at the urinal, you take the farthest one away from them. You always want at least one urinal between you and the other guys. If it’s not very crowded, you can even wait until someone finishes so as to avoid the ‘right next to each other’ urinal action.”

“But what if it’s really crowded?” I asked.

“Well, you can’t avoid peeing beside each other forever. Sometimes you just have to do it. But, honestly, when it comes down to it, we’ll just pee right there in the street.”

And there it is. Ladies, it’s sad but true what this says about our era. We may have burned our bras and went overseas to fight in wars, but when it comes down to it, we still can’t pee in the street…at least, not very discreetly what with our comically large, bowling-ball-sized wad of toilet paper and all.

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Without Christmas, it’s just…winter

Sorry, guys, but brace yourselves. I am about to Pollyanna-out on all of you.

Maybe it’s because it’s my baby’s first Christmas or maybe it’s because I’m getting soft in my old age, but whatever the reason is, I am all about Christmas this year. I mean, I am downright excreting Christmas spirit out of my goddamn freaking pores.

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I have to admit, it’s a nice change of pace. Last year I was super pregnant during the holidays, which naturally made me want to stab everyone in the face with a candy cane whenever I left the safe confines of my house.

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And the year before that, well, I don’t exactly remember since all the electricity in my brain is currently being sucked up by the part that alerts me that my baby is trying to kill himself AGAIN by chewing on the cable cord. But I’m sure I was grouchy because the days leading up to Christmas are chaotic and crowded and my liquor store always runs out of the gallon-sized, industrial-strength eggnog I use as my holiday crutch.

But this year? I have Christmas music on constant rotation. I put up ALL the Christmas decorations, instead of just enough so that it wasn’t sad. I bought the good wrapping paper, instead of the $1.99 crap that is made from ancient cobwebs and glitter and falls apart if you happen to breathe too close to it.

And I’ve already bought most of my gifts instead of waiting until December 23, where I will inevitably sprain my eyeballs from all the eye-rolling I will do while waiting in the world’s largest line because the store thinks having one cash register open is a swell idea two days before Christmas.

But most amazing of all, I’m actually being nice. To STRANGERS. Stupid, dumb, ugly strangers who I normally hate. But now? It’s all opening doors for them and “oh no, after you,” and even “why no, those neon hot pink skintight leggings aren’t permanently ruining my eyesight at all.”

I don’t know if it will last. If next year, or even next week, I’ll regress back to my old “bah-humbug” ways. But I hope not. Because this whole “seeing the gallon of eggnog half-full” thing is actually kind of…wonderful.

I mean, do you know what this time of year would be without Christmas? It would just be “oh, hey everyone, winter has started and it’s going to suck so hard for the next four months.”

And with Christmas, instead of being depressed that night now starts at 3:30 p.m., you get “oh hey, we just finished lunch and it’s already dark enough to turn on the Christmas tree!” And instead of being miserable because you’re cold, you get to warm up the house with the baking of cookies and the cooking of giant hams that are bigger than your toddler (and then the eating of all the giant ham all in one sitting because calories don’t count in December). Not to mention, it’s the only time of the year where it’s socially acceptable to punch the person who brought the “healthy” cookies into work to share (ahem…Susan). And while you may think you’re sick of all that Christmas music, just keep in mind that Christmas is the temporary dam that keeps the Taylor Swift tidal wave at bay for a few weeks.

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Christmas makes snow magical, instead of “the demon powder that makes me late to work” that it becomes in January. Christmas transforms decades-old bad animation into beloved holiday classics you actually look forward to watching. And most importantly, Christmas changes going to the liquor store at 9 a.m. on a Saturday for seventeen bottles of wine from “pathetic” to “totally understandable and necessary purchases.”

Not that Christmas doesn’t have its downsides. The mindless consumerism, the deep pit of debt, the never-ending flood of Facebook photos of that elf pooping Hershey kisses on top of cookies. Not to mention, all those helpful people who keep ruining “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” by pointing out how rape-y it is.

But for all our bitching about the holiday season, the world would be a much darker place, quite literally, without Christmas. So I, for one, plan to soak up as much Christmas magic as I can.

Before January comes and slowly strangles all our souls with its cold, dead hands.