Anyway, dudes, don’t let anybody — not even a fucking ghost — stop you from sailing into Crazy Lady Bay. It’s totally worth it.
GET IT, GIRL
Like coming between a bear and her cubs, coming between a girl and her goals is a recipe for fucking disaster. Whether it’s the pursuit of a career goal, or much-needed carbohydrates, if a woman’s mind is set on something, it’s fucking on. And, in recent times, I can’t think of a goal-driven woman who brought it harder than Emmeline Pankhurst, a revolutionary leader of the British women’s suffrage movement.
Following the death of her husband in 1898, Emmeline was left a single mother of five. Her husband had always been her strongest supporter, but now, without him, she was forced to pursue her dream of equal voting rights for British women on her own. So in 1903, she formed the Women’s Social and Political Union.
Now, one important thing to note about Emmeline, she wasn’t about clever rhymes and picket signs. She was a woman of action who lived by the motto, “Deeds, not words.” What kind of deeds exactly? Well, in 1912, Emmeline was arrested 12 times for arson, vandalism, and other hoodrat things she did to bring attention to her fight. TWELVE FUCKING TIMES — in ONE year. Your favorite rappers don’t have shit on Emmeline’s level of street cred. With her background, she could have easily dropped a mixtape if she so chose. Something like — “Guilty of Being a G” — would have been an appropriate title.
I mean, talk about a woman who literally did not give a fuck. Not even one. In a court appearance following one of her arrests, she said, “We are here not because we are lawbreakers; we are here in our efforts to become lawmakers.” You see what I’m saying about never getting in the way of a determined woman and her goals? No matter what, she never lost sight of her goal. All she wanted was equal voting rights, and she fought for that goal until the day she died: June 14, 1928, at the age of 69. (Ha, classic. Sixty-nine — even her death age was rebellious.) And, just weeks after her death, the Equal Franchise Act was passed, allowing all British women over 21 to vote, regardless of property and marital status.
So, the next time you and your friends can’t decide on where to eat, TAKE A VOTE. If you’re not happy with the outcome, do what Emmeline would do and set something on fire.
FIGHTING FOR THE RIGHT
“Free the nipple.” You’ve seen the hashtag, you’ve read the posts — and you know what — I’m totally on board with it. Why? Duh, because nipples are fucking cool; they’re second only to side boob. (Side boob wins every time.) The way I see it, if you’re happy with the size, shape, and spacing of your milk duds, you should definitely be allowed to share them, when and wherever you want (if that’s your thing). It’s a personal choice. Unfortunately, it’s a choice only reserved for men. Which is wrong, because dude nipples are fucking dumb and ugly. You can’t even milk a dude. (Yeah, your boyfriend really is fucking worthless.) However, there was a time when even men weren’t allowed to expose their gumdrops in public.
The Civil War wasn’t the only war fought on North American soil. The Nipple Wars of the 1930s were equally as brutal, but involved far less bloodshed. Let’s hear about one of these terrifying battles and the brave men who fought for the right to party with your shirt off. The year was 1936, and it was a particularly hot day up in America’s toupee, a.k.a. Toronto, Canada. So hot that many men decided to bare their chests at a local beach (fucking rebels). This rogue move resulted in 30 men being arrested for “indecent exposure.” I mean, I’ve heard of some pretty weird shit coming out of Canada — like polite criminals and affordable healthcare — but this story really takes the Canadian Cake.
FYI - A “Canadian Cake” is a slang term I just made up for a birthday party that involves beer, fistfights, and pouring brown gravy on FUCKING EVERYTHING. (Canadians will get it.) Now, in Canada’s defense, men were fighting the same fight in New York City at that time as well. Basically, in 1936, we were all prudes.
Anyway, shortly after the Toronto Titty Gang members were arrested, the laws were changed and it was finally deemed acceptable for men to go topless. Thus, the first major victory of the North American Nipple Wars was won.
Fast-forward to today, what’s so offensive about female nipples anyway? I say, “Free the female nipple, hide the fucking bro toes.” If you want to talk about something offensive, let’s talk about dudes wearing sandals… fuck flip-flops.
LAWS, LIARS, AND LIBATIONS
Dudes will say just about anything to get laid. Absolutely relentless with unoriginal compliments, career lies, and anything else they think will help them get horizontal. Any woman who’s left her house long enough to go to a bar, club, or pet store knows what I’m talking about. Shit like, “I don’t usually talk to girls at bars,” “I’m not like other guys,” and “I read books.” Lies, lies, lies — he just wants a piece of your cherry pie. (Sorry, that was gross. Calling a vagina a cherry pie sounds like a time-of-the-month metaphor.)
Anyway, the tactic of lying for lady bits — also referred to as “spitting game” — is as old as time. Your dad did it to your mom and Adam probably did it to Eve. (I don’t think her leaf just fell off.) At one point, laws were even passed in an attempt to prevent this behavior by making it illegal for men to bullshit their way into bed. Known as “Anti-Seduction Acts,” or “Seduction Laws,” states such as New York, Virginia, Ohio, and Georgia passed these ordinances during the 1800s. Each state had its own take on seduction policy, but the one thing they all had in common: Seduction Laws applied to the false promise of marriage… ha, really? How fucking desperate is that? One minute he’s buying you a drink and lying about his career as an astronaut, the next, he’s throwing out the mother of all Hail Marys and asking for your hand in marriage.
Now, the really stupid thing about these laws, they assumed women couldn’t already sniff out some bullshit. Like, somehow, a false marriage proposal was a hypnotic guarantee of gettin’some. I don’t know about you, but I’m pretty sure girls don’t need legal legislation to help them avoid a douche. I mean, I’ve spent a fair amount of time in Las Vegas — and from what I’ve seen, women are perfectly capable of navigating douchey waters.
Girls, if a guy simply won’t stop trying to get into your honey pot, you’re in luck, because there’s still a law for you: Newton’s Law of Universal Gravitation. This law states, if you hold your drink above a man’s head and rotate it sideways, the contents within will do the work of getting rid of him.
A MUTUAL UNDERSTANDING
“So, what are we?” The dreaded question nobody wants to hear from someone they think they’re just casually dating. “Are you my friend, my fish friend, my girlfriend, or my half-fish friend who happens to also be a girl?” Yeah, dating a mermaid would be fucking confusing.
Now, I don’t care whether you’re a man, woman, or mythical sea harlot, discussing your expectations of a relationship is necessary. If you don’t want something serious, just be honest about it. Don’t let the other person think it’s something it’s not as they run around telling everyone the two of you are “dating” when really all you did was split an appetizer a few weeks back. One-sided relationships are bullshit and sad — like the very one-sided relationship between King George III of Great Britain and Elizabeth Spencer.