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Showing posts with label Balls. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Balls. Show all posts

Thursday, December 6, 2007

Male and Female Apartments and I Cant Believe It's Not Butter

Last night a member of the male species emerged from our bathroom and proclaimed, “Well if I ever get shot or fatally wounded and am bleeding profusely I know there will be enough pads and tampons to save me and an entire army…” My roommates and I just stared at him.

Yes, I admit it; living with all women in a sorority style apartment is like swimming in the waters of a fallopian tube. There is enough estrogen in our place to make anyone want to curl up on the pink sofa with a nice Anne Geddes posters and cry. But the thing I have discovered is men also run in similar patterns.


Anne Geddes...because a period once a month isn't enough!

Just as a girls apartment always contains similar things- I Cant Believe It’s Not Butter Spray ( i love that shit!) and Sex and The City The Board Games ( i beat you Sarah! yes I did! I told you Charlotte dated a gay man in episode 45) ... . A guy's apartment is fashioned the same way, always containing the exact same things as well:

1- No real furniture except for one black leather couch
2- An enormous television that you all chipped in to lease from Rent-Depot
3- Video games with names like, “Things We Can Kill”
4- A Big Jugs magazine in the bathroom, or “horny red-heads” if you prefer..
5- Bottles of old Gatorade
6- A photo of someone puking that still makes you chuckle
7- Two black and white pictures hanging on the wall of the city YOU ACTUALLY LIVE IN (why? You live there! You see it everyday!)
8- The token blue comforter and flannel sheets (neither of which have been washed in two years)
9- A hole in one of the walls where someone punched it in the night their team lost (..I mean why? ..Just why?)
10- A CD of ‘girl’ music, that you only play right before you hook up, maybe Maroon Five or Sarah McLaughlin…just throwin that out there..
11- A box of condoms…I mean really…a BOX? Really?
12- Some kind of pleasure lube…and the ‘pleasures’ part normally means “Ouch ouch… my privates are on fire!”
13- A Doritos bag…no actual Doritos in the bag…just the bag

I challenge any guy to tell me he does not have at least two of these things in his apartment. And I also challenge my best guy friend in NY to stop putting graffiti paint on his NEW CONDO WALLS…. No one is impressed John, and you are not Spencer Pratt from The Hills, so just stop.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Things That Make My Ovaries Cry

Last weekend I made the fatale mistake of renting, ‘The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants’, thinking it was going to be ‘cute’. About an hour into it I felt like if I endured anymore estrogen my ovaries would explode, as my uterus tried to commit suicide off the edge of my fallopian tubes.


I want them to be my BFFs forever and share half heart
necklaces and sing Ace of Base 'dont turn around'
That movie had so much crying and talking, and talking and crying, I was in hormone hell…it was like I had rented two hours worth of menstruation. After that movie I needed to watch four hours of football, scratch my non-existent balls, or scratch someone else’s balls for that matter, and make some pussy jokes.
my ovaries are crying inside
When did women start enjoying this? Do we not talk about our feelings enough as it is? Do we actually need to watch others talk about theirs now too?
If you have ever sat and watched a reality show such as 'The Bachelor' with a group of women, you would know that women can talk about anything for hours. I had a three hour debate once with my roommates once on why the Bachelor picked the blonde girl in the purple dress versus the blonde girl in the red dress. We had theories and speculations. We even made charts and diagrams and I believe someone brought over a projector and some slides for a PowerPoint presentation or some microfiche. It was all very scientific.
I like using advanced technology

And you know what I finally came to the conclusion of? …Goddamn women talk a lot about nothing.