Me at the gym today:
Guy (staring at my belly): “Congrats! When are you due?”
Me: “How DARE you assume I’m pregnant! What if I had just gained weight?! Learn some manners, presumptuous asshole.”
Me on the subway today:
Guy (staring at my belly): <does nothing>
Me: “How DARE you not stand up and give me your seat! I am CLEARLY pregnant! Learn some manners, selfish asshole.”
Me, pregnant, generally:
Guys: <not looking at me>
Me: “Oh so now that I’m pregnant I’m no longer attractive?! Men are such superficial assholes.”
Me, not pregnant, generally:
Guys: <looking at me>
Me: “Fucking perverts. All of you.”
Me: “Did you hear about Cam Jansen’s super sexist comment?”
Eric: “You mean Cam Newton?”
Me: “Whatever, yeah. It was absurd– a female reporter asked him a question about the game, and he responded being like ‘It’s funny to hear a girl talk about paths.’ Like a girl couldn’t possibly know about wide receiver paths?!”
Eric: “You mean routes?”
Eric: “So I was just with an older woman in the laundry room and she sees me putting clothes in the dryer and she’s like ‘What is this– a man doing the laundry? Really?’ And I was like ‘Yeah, of course!’ and she’s like ‘Really? Wow. Your wife doesn’t do the laundry?’ and I was like ‘Well, my wife and I split the chore 50/50– she does all the folding, so I do the washing and drying part’ and the woman was like ‘Oh my goodness, your wife is SO lucky!'”
Me, throughout this entire story:
The sibling text chain has decided to return to a simpler time, when presidential sexism was more subtle.
“You’re pretty funny for a girl.”
— Kid, age 9, to me.
Eric’s been watching a lot of home renovation shows on HGTV.
“Look, if you stack the blankets sideways, it creates a more modern look.”
I’m having anxiety.
I do not apologize for, and am 100% fine with, the fact that I did not recognize even ONE famous athlete in the movie “Trainwreck,” including LeBron James. I was grateful that the script actually stated, “You know who that is, right? That’s LeBron James,” because no, I did NOT know who that was. Much like Amy Schumer’s character, I simply thought he was a very tall, handsome, muscular black man.
I did, however, know every single comedian who made an appearance in the film and have read most of their memoirs.
I can’t be a girl who is funny AND who likes sports.
The universe would implode, guys.
Me: “I can use the word ‘pussy’ in this rehearsal dinner speech, right?”
Guy (bursts out laughing…laughter slowly fades): “Wait– are you serious?”
I’m keeping it.
Sometimes I get the old, “I’m going to die all alone” blues. Nothing dire or overly dramatic. Really.
They usually happen on Sunday. So, like….today.
I texted a female friend with this concern, and her response:
Then a male friend:
I’m not gonna lie– the male friend snapped me out of it.
Me: “What’s a good way to get more blog followers?”
Guy: “Post a nude photo.”
Me: “Ok, like something I would actually do.”
Guy: “Waist-up nude photo.”
Me: “ACTUALLY. DO.”
Guy: “Photo between waist and neck. Nude.”
Me: “So…my boobs.”
Me: “Ok, so again…ACTUALLY DO.”
Guy: “You won’t even do THAT?”
Me: “No! Besides, these boobs aren’t going to get any followers.”
Guy: “Yeah. Maybe someone else’s boobs. SAY they’re yours, though.”