Why Women Are Crabby
07-18-2007, 02:22 PM
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Why Women Are Crabby Why Women Are Crabby
We started to "bud" in our blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to find that anything that came in contact with those tender, blooming buds hurt so bad it brought us to tears. So came the ridiculously uncomfortable training bra contraption that the boys in school would snap until we had calluses on our backs.
Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner). Along with those budding *****, we bloated, we cramped, we got the hormone crankies, had to wear little mattresses between our legs or insert tubular, packed cotton rods in places we didn't even know we had.
Our next little rite of passage was having sex for the first time which was about as much fun as having a ramrod push your uterus through your nostrils (IF he did it right and didn't end up with his little cart before his horse), leaving us to wonder what all the fuss was about.
Then it was off to Motherhood where we learned to live on dry crackers and water for a few months so we didn't spend the entire day leaning over Brother John. Of course, amazing creatures that we are (and we are), we learned to live with the growing little angels inside us steadily kicking our innards night and day making us wonder if we were preparing to have Rosemary's Baby.
Our once flat bellies looked like we swallowed a wholewatermelon and we pee'd our pants every time we sneezed. When the big moment arrived, the dam in our blessed Nether Regions invariably burst right in the middle of the mall and we had to waddle, with our big cartoon feet, moaning in pain all the way to the ER.
Then it was huff and puff and beg to die while the OB says, "Please stop screaming, Mrs. Hearmeroar. Calm down and push. "Just one more good push" (more like 10), warranting a strong, well-deserved impulse to punch the %$#*@*#!* hubby and doctor square in the nose for making us cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed 10 pound bowling ball through a keyhole.
After that, it was time to raise those angels only to find that when all that "cute" wears off, the beautiful little darlings morphed into walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing, life-sucking little poop machines.
Then come their "Teen Years." Need I say more?
When the kids are almost grown, we women hit our voracious sexual prime in our early 40's - while hubby had his somewhere around his 18th birthday.
So we progress into the grand finale: "The Menopause," the Grandmother of all womanhood. It's either take HRT and chance cancer in those now seasoned "buds" or the aforementioned Nether Regions, or, sweat like a hog in July, wash your sheets and pillowcases daily and bite the head off anything that moves. (Hey Doug - Get off me I'm hot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Now, you ask WHY women seem to be more spiteful than men, when men get off so easy, INCLUDING the icing on life's cake: Being able to pee in the woods without soaking their socks... (hey Ellis can I borrow your hat??)
So, while I love being a woman, "Womanhood" would make the Great Gandhi a tad crabby. You think women are the "weaker sex?" Yeah right. Bite me!!
We started to "bud" in our blouses at 9 or 10 years old only to find that anything that came in contact with those tender, blooming buds hurt so bad it brought us to tears. So came the ridiculously uncomfortable training bra contraption that the boys in school would snap until we had calluses on our backs.
Next, we get our periods in our early to mid-teens (or sooner). Along with those budding *****, we bloated, we cramped, we got the hormone crankies, had to wear little mattresses between our legs or insert tubular, packed cotton rods in places we didn't even know we had.
Our next little rite of passage was having sex for the first time which was about as much fun as having a ramrod push your uterus through your nostrils (IF he did it right and didn't end up with his little cart before his horse), leaving us to wonder what all the fuss was about.
Then it was off to Motherhood where we learned to live on dry crackers and water for a few months so we didn't spend the entire day leaning over Brother John. Of course, amazing creatures that we are (and we are), we learned to live with the growing little angels inside us steadily kicking our innards night and day making us wonder if we were preparing to have Rosemary's Baby.
Our once flat bellies looked like we swallowed a wholewatermelon and we pee'd our pants every time we sneezed. When the big moment arrived, the dam in our blessed Nether Regions invariably burst right in the middle of the mall and we had to waddle, with our big cartoon feet, moaning in pain all the way to the ER.
Then it was huff and puff and beg to die while the OB says, "Please stop screaming, Mrs. Hearmeroar. Calm down and push. "Just one more good push" (more like 10), warranting a strong, well-deserved impulse to punch the %$#*@*#!* hubby and doctor square in the nose for making us cram a wiggling, mushroom-headed 10 pound bowling ball through a keyhole.
After that, it was time to raise those angels only to find that when all that "cute" wears off, the beautiful little darlings morphed into walking, jabbering, wet, gooey, snot-blowing, life-sucking little poop machines.
Then come their "Teen Years." Need I say more?
When the kids are almost grown, we women hit our voracious sexual prime in our early 40's - while hubby had his somewhere around his 18th birthday.
So we progress into the grand finale: "The Menopause," the Grandmother of all womanhood. It's either take HRT and chance cancer in those now seasoned "buds" or the aforementioned Nether Regions, or, sweat like a hog in July, wash your sheets and pillowcases daily and bite the head off anything that moves. (Hey Doug - Get off me I'm hot!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
Now, you ask WHY women seem to be more spiteful than men, when men get off so easy, INCLUDING the icing on life's cake: Being able to pee in the woods without soaking their socks... (hey Ellis can I borrow your hat??)
So, while I love being a woman, "Womanhood" would make the Great Gandhi a tad crabby. You think women are the "weaker sex?" Yeah right. Bite me!!
07-18-2007, 02:33 PM
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Originally Posted by Mrs99LSS1
So, while I love being a woman, "Womanhood" would make the Great Gandhi a tad crabby. You think women are the "weaker sex?" Yeah right. Bite me!!
07-18-2007, 03:05 PM
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"Why It's Great To Be A Guy"
ØYour *** is never a factor in a job interview.
ØYour orgasms are real. Always.
ØYour last name stays put.
ØThe garage is all yours.
ØWedding plans take care of themselves.
ØYou don't have to curl up next to a hairy butt every night.
ØChocolate is just another snack.
ØYou can be president.
ØYou can wear a white shirt to a water park.
ØForeplay is optional.
ØYou never feel compelled to stop a friend from getting laid
ØCar mechanics tell you the truth.
ØYou don't care if someone notices your new haircut.
ØThe world is your urinal.
ØHot wax never comes near your private area.
ØYou never have to drive to another gas station because this one's just too icky.
ØSame work ... more pay.
ØWrinkles add character.
ØYou don't have to leave the room to make an emergency crotch adjustments.
ØWedding Dress $2000; Tux rental $100.
ØIf you retain water, it's in a canteen.
ØPeople never glance at your chest when you're talking to them.
ØPrincess Di's death was just another obituary.
ØThe occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected.
ØNew shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet.
ØYour pals can be trusted never to trap you with: "So, notice anything different?"
ØOne mood, all the time.
ØYour *** is never a factor in a job interview.
ØYour orgasms are real. Always.
ØYour last name stays put.
ØThe garage is all yours.
ØWedding plans take care of themselves.
ØYou don't have to curl up next to a hairy butt every night.
ØChocolate is just another snack.
ØYou can be president.
ØYou can wear a white shirt to a water park.
ØForeplay is optional.
ØYou never feel compelled to stop a friend from getting laid
ØCar mechanics tell you the truth.
ØYou don't care if someone notices your new haircut.
ØThe world is your urinal.
ØHot wax never comes near your private area.
ØYou never have to drive to another gas station because this one's just too icky.
ØSame work ... more pay.
ØWrinkles add character.
ØYou don't have to leave the room to make an emergency crotch adjustments.
ØWedding Dress $2000; Tux rental $100.
ØIf you retain water, it's in a canteen.
ØPeople never glance at your chest when you're talking to them.
ØPrincess Di's death was just another obituary.
ØThe occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected.
ØNew shoes don't cut, blister, or mangle your feet.
ØYour pals can be trusted never to trap you with: "So, notice anything different?"
ØOne mood, all the time.
07-18-2007, 03:27 PM
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Good one Moira! So that's why Linda is grumpy? Here I thought it was the red-car GF I have.
x MANY
As long as we're giggling
How to Tell the Sex of a Fly.
A woman walked into the kitchen to find her husband stalking around with a fly swatter
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"Hunting Flies" He responded.
"Oh. Killing any?" She asked
"Yep, 3 males, 2 Females," he replied.
Intrigued, she asked. "How can you tell them apart?"
He responded "3 were on a beer can, 2 were on the phone."
Originally Posted by ram-it
Nice of you to come out and play finally, Ricky!
As long as we're giggling
How to Tell the Sex of a Fly.
A woman walked into the kitchen to find her husband stalking around with a fly swatter
"What are you doing?" She asked.
"Hunting Flies" He responded.
"Oh. Killing any?" She asked
"Yep, 3 males, 2 Females," he replied.
Intrigued, she asked. "How can you tell them apart?"
He responded "3 were on a beer can, 2 were on the phone."
07-18-2007, 04:07 PM
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Originally Posted by ram-it
Nice of you to come out and play finally, Ricky!
How do you tell if a woman is intellegent?
She starts every sentence with "A man once told me..."
How do you fix a womans watch?
You don't, there's one on the stove.
Why are womens feet smaller than mens?
It's one of those evolutionary things, so they can be closer to the sink.
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07-19-2007, 08:57 PM
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Q: why do women not need a drivers license?
A: because there is no road from the kitchen to the bedroom.
A woman is a lot like a box of kfc, you start off with two juicy breasts and a couple of tender thighs, and when you're finished all you're left with is a greasy box.
Q: What is six inches long, has a bald head, and drives women crazy?
A: A hundred dollar bill.
After just a few years of marriage, filled with constant arguments, a young man and his wife decided the only way to save their marriage was to try counselling. They had been at each other's throat for some time and felt that this was their last straw.
When they arrived at the counsellor's office, the counsellor jumped right in and opened the floor for discussion.
"What seems to be the problem?"
Immediately, the husband held his long face down without anything to say. On the other hand, the wife began talking 90 miles an hour describing all the wrongs within their marriage.
After 5 - 10 - 15 minutes of listening to the wife, the counsellor went over to her, picked her up by her shoulders, kissed her passionately for several minutes, and sat her back down. Afterwards, the wife sat there speechless.
He looked over at the husband who was staring in disbelief at what had happened.
The counsellor spoke to the husband, "Your wife NEEDS that at least twice a week!"
The husband scratched his head and replied, "I can have her here on Tuesdays and Thursdays."
A chicken farmer goes into a local tavern, takes a seat at the bar next to a woman, and orders a glass of champagne. The woman perks up and says, "How about that? I just ordered a glass of champagne, too!"
He turns to her and says, "What a coincidence. This is a special day for me, I'm celebrating."
"This is a special day for me, too, and I'm also celebrating," says the woman.
"What a coincidence," says the man.
They clink glasses and he asks, "What are you celebrating?"
"My husband and I have been trying to have a child. Today, my gynecologist told me I'm pregnant!"
"What a coincidence," says the man. "I'm a chicken farmer. For years all my hens were infertile, but today they're finally fertile."
"That's great," says the woman. "How did your chickens become fertile?"
"I switched *****," he replies.
"What a coincidence" she said.
A: because there is no road from the kitchen to the bedroom.
A woman is a lot like a box of kfc, you start off with two juicy breasts and a couple of tender thighs, and when you're finished all you're left with is a greasy box.
Q: What is six inches long, has a bald head, and drives women crazy?
A: A hundred dollar bill.
After just a few years of marriage, filled with constant arguments, a young man and his wife decided the only way to save their marriage was to try counselling. They had been at each other's throat for some time and felt that this was their last straw.
When they arrived at the counsellor's office, the counsellor jumped right in and opened the floor for discussion.
"What seems to be the problem?"
Immediately, the husband held his long face down without anything to say. On the other hand, the wife began talking 90 miles an hour describing all the wrongs within their marriage.
After 5 - 10 - 15 minutes of listening to the wife, the counsellor went over to her, picked her up by her shoulders, kissed her passionately for several minutes, and sat her back down. Afterwards, the wife sat there speechless.
He looked over at the husband who was staring in disbelief at what had happened.
The counsellor spoke to the husband, "Your wife NEEDS that at least twice a week!"
The husband scratched his head and replied, "I can have her here on Tuesdays and Thursdays."
A chicken farmer goes into a local tavern, takes a seat at the bar next to a woman, and orders a glass of champagne. The woman perks up and says, "How about that? I just ordered a glass of champagne, too!"
He turns to her and says, "What a coincidence. This is a special day for me, I'm celebrating."
"This is a special day for me, too, and I'm also celebrating," says the woman.
"What a coincidence," says the man.
They clink glasses and he asks, "What are you celebrating?"
"My husband and I have been trying to have a child. Today, my gynecologist told me I'm pregnant!"
"What a coincidence," says the man. "I'm a chicken farmer. For years all my hens were infertile, but today they're finally fertile."
"That's great," says the woman. "How did your chickens become fertile?"
"I switched *****," he replies.
"What a coincidence" she said.
07-20-2007, 05:08 PM
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From the best of Craigs List: http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/phi/208351190.html
Have A Happy Period
Date: 2006-09-16, 11:34PM EDT
Ok so Always, the brand that makes pads, is on this whole "have a happy period" kick. Now they put it on their pads, ya know on the little piece of paper that covers the adhesive side, yup in some nice little feminine script it says "have a Happy Period." I see that **** and I'm like what the hell...it's bad enough that they actually say that crap in commercials like i'm really gonna stop and think and be like...wait...I never thought of that...all this time i've just decided to be bitchy, and bloated, and broken out, and crampy and in tears during my period, when all along i could've been having happy periods. On the beach in a bikini (maybe an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot one), or in a coffee shop with my girlfriends who also have their period, but you wouldn't know it cuz we're all just so ******* happy about it. Forget the fact that I'm bleeding like a slaughtered pig, forget the fact that I now have to walk around wearing a ******* diaper hoping I don't bleed on everything, forget the fact that now I'm horny as **** but can't get any and guys must know when a girl has her period and find us extra attractive cuz they always wanna try to touch your *** on those 5 ******* days a month that you've gotta wear this mini diaper and period panties, and when u ask them not to touch your *** they always gotta ******* ask why, CUZ I'M ON MY ******* PERIOD YOU MORON, forget the fact that I'm already bloated but craving french fries, potato chips, chocolate, cake...chocolate cake. Forget all that **** and have happy period. HOW THE **** AM I SUPPOSED TO HAVE A HAPPY PERIOD!!?? You can ******* suggest the ****, why don't you give some pointers. Maybe it involves a whole lot of valium, And you know normally I would think that some dimwitted dick came up with that slogan, but no I'm sure it was some high powered business woman in her navy blue skirt suit and stilletto pumps trying to show that she can make it in a mans world...I bet she doesn't have happy periods, i bet she takes ******* birth control year round so that she has no periods, so that instead of spending a week with premenstrual syndrome, a week on her period, another week with post menstrual syndrom and then another week dreding that in a week she's gonna be PMSing again she can have the time to come up with nifty slogans as if telling me to have a happy period is gonna make me buy your product more, like theres something extra special about your pad. Guess what bitch, you've got a product that people are gonna buy whether u advertise for it or not... it's like gasoline, or toothpaste, or condoms we're gonna buy it no matter what, we have to, we need it to survive . so **** YOU and **** your happy period.
Have A Happy Period
Date: 2006-09-16, 11:34PM EDT
Ok so Always, the brand that makes pads, is on this whole "have a happy period" kick. Now they put it on their pads, ya know on the little piece of paper that covers the adhesive side, yup in some nice little feminine script it says "have a Happy Period." I see that **** and I'm like what the hell...it's bad enough that they actually say that crap in commercials like i'm really gonna stop and think and be like...wait...I never thought of that...all this time i've just decided to be bitchy, and bloated, and broken out, and crampy and in tears during my period, when all along i could've been having happy periods. On the beach in a bikini (maybe an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot one), or in a coffee shop with my girlfriends who also have their period, but you wouldn't know it cuz we're all just so ******* happy about it. Forget the fact that I'm bleeding like a slaughtered pig, forget the fact that I now have to walk around wearing a ******* diaper hoping I don't bleed on everything, forget the fact that now I'm horny as **** but can't get any and guys must know when a girl has her period and find us extra attractive cuz they always wanna try to touch your *** on those 5 ******* days a month that you've gotta wear this mini diaper and period panties, and when u ask them not to touch your *** they always gotta ******* ask why, CUZ I'M ON MY ******* PERIOD YOU MORON, forget the fact that I'm already bloated but craving french fries, potato chips, chocolate, cake...chocolate cake. Forget all that **** and have happy period. HOW THE **** AM I SUPPOSED TO HAVE A HAPPY PERIOD!!?? You can ******* suggest the ****, why don't you give some pointers. Maybe it involves a whole lot of valium, And you know normally I would think that some dimwitted dick came up with that slogan, but no I'm sure it was some high powered business woman in her navy blue skirt suit and stilletto pumps trying to show that she can make it in a mans world...I bet she doesn't have happy periods, i bet she takes ******* birth control year round so that she has no periods, so that instead of spending a week with premenstrual syndrome, a week on her period, another week with post menstrual syndrom and then another week dreding that in a week she's gonna be PMSing again she can have the time to come up with nifty slogans as if telling me to have a happy period is gonna make me buy your product more, like theres something extra special about your pad. Guess what bitch, you've got a product that people are gonna buy whether u advertise for it or not... it's like gasoline, or toothpaste, or condoms we're gonna buy it no matter what, we have to, we need it to survive . so **** YOU and **** your happy period.
there's no such thing...