If you want a non-pink, gender-neutral app, then by Hera's white arms go with Clue. The interface is elegant and simple. You can choose whether or not to turn on notifications. Not only does it track your period, but you can also track mood, sexual activity, and other discharges—or create your own tags. The latter's…

I was so afraid of doing something just like that that I held off on shaving for a long, long time. In sixth grade, my armpits were like shag carpet—shag carpet in a hippie commune where everyone walks around barefoot. It was horrendous. I decided that shaving was too scary still, but maybe I could trim up with…

In fourth grade, we did a project where we wrote about famous Missourians and then dressed up as them and gave little "autobiographical" spiels. I chose Linda Godwin, the astronaut, and wrote a letter to her asking all kinds of questions about why she decided to become an astronaut and such. And the glorious woman…

(thanks, deary!)

And some of us are in college and terrified to come out because our families would probably never talk to us again. Not that they probably really understand what bisexual means—is it like part-lesbian? Pft.

Can I just add

Within the last couple of months I figured out that I've got some kind of kink for peeing. Just peeing. Maybe a bit of omorashi on the side. Frankly I'm a bit weirded out, but also kind of relieved (pun intentional), because it explains the weird feelings I'd get as a kid whenever a book I was reading mentioned…

When my grandpa was an elementary student in middle-of-nowhere Missouri, he and his class read Little House on the Prairie, and he enjoyed it so much that he wrote a letter to Laura Engalls Wilder.

My thoughts exactly.

My mom's got a similar story. She was hugely pregnant with me, sitting next to the stream near the house and relaxing while watching the water burble along. Then out of nowhere a red fox trots up and sits down beside her. It clearly knows she's there, but for the most part it simply sits and watches the stream with…

Oh, oh my gosh, one more. This is the story of the Pervy Centipede.

Short but sweet: I was in London, entering the Tube at Charing Cross. Distracted by the sight of a man in a Darth Vader costume, I didn't notice the crazed pigeon heading straight for my head until it was far too late to dodge. And at that moment, my ninja skills (I'm a black belt in TaeKwonDo, as it happens) kicked…

I'm one of those crazies that's completely unafraid of all types of animals. Not stupidly unafraid—I retain a healthy sense of respect for things that could sting, squish, poison, chomp, or strangle me—but there's nothing out there that'll make me squeal with fear or freeze up like a scared rabbit. I mean, spiders and…

A couple relatives of mine, successful businesspeople in their upper 50's, are really picky about where they eat out and how their food is prepared. So at the few local restaurants they dine in, the waitresses/cooks/management know them well... and fear them. Last time I ate with them, the gal taking orders said,…