Women are not infants. We’re accountable for the shit we talk, and accountable includes the potential consequences of deliberately provoking people.
Women are not infants. We’re accountable for the shit we talk, and accountable includes the potential consequences of deliberately provoking people.
So true. When the trombone player did the little wah wahhhh thing, I was mortified.
When the government wants to get out of “x” business, they break it first, irreparably. Then they can point at it and go, see, broken, privatize it. Then they can get back to the business of fellating the wealthy.
So I’ll make plenty more of them!
Apparently, the closer we drive to my childhood home, the more my accent reverts. You’ns is straight Appalachia (you ones), as is your’n for your. Your’n is akin to mine, but mine passed into usage and your’n, his’n, and her’n did not. Y’all is “ye all”. The etymology of Appalachian English is really fun, you’ns!
Thank you. I have one, I think I can call it what I want. So far, no sharks have snatched it.
So as a girl who cares less, am I now a gender non-essentialist? What are the rules? I’m so confused!!!
Hers is the stock photo equivalent of a feminist book. To your point, those seminar books: I go through my shelves and cull from time to time, and I always notice that those conference and seminar books are never cracked (except when Gilderoy Lockhart opened it to sign it).
One Sunday night I went to the ER with chest pains (which means I jumped ahead of you, sorry about that). They tested, it wasn’t a heart attack, it was extremely high blood pressure, which the random ER doctor who blew through my cubicle treated with Benedryl. I laid around for literally hours and then was sent home.
What gets me is the middle class Trump voters need to be very very afraid. They are one medical crisis away from going bankrupt and on public support, which will no longer be there.
Worse!
Oh god, you nailed it. This is the “workplace stock photo” of books. The only thing the book is missing is the forced diversity in the photo.
Wait, so it wasn’t a + (bc) - d, it was (a+b)(c-d)??? Serious math foul.
I once said, “300 feet, not 100 yards” in a meeting. They (rightfully) asked me how I ever got through school. My brain just skipped. The good news is that I’ll never make that mistake ever again. And yes, metric is a godsend....11/16ths my ass.
It’s easy to confidently demand what you want when you have the security of knowing that your name guarantees you a position when you walk in the door, and that you’ll fall on a mattress of money if you fail.
Any real event planner would have gone to the interview, looked through the plan, and said, “Okay, when’s the date?”
The awesome Elastigirl was in that crap? Must go watch Raising Arizona three times through as a palate cleanser.
I fell in love with Mighty Kacy. Our whole house cheered like crazy when she made that run.
Yes, exactly. I’ve seen tacky beach windsocks billed as “cabanas” and hideous cut-rate condos billed as “villas” but this was not even in that league. Tent camping in the Caribbean in April (already hot), in the sand? Refund now, please.
Due to circumstances out of our control