Lunch: Like “brunch,” this is a portmanteau, in this case: “lady munch.” Traditionally, only women ate a midday meal; men were out working, hunting, etc.
Gallon: It’s no coincidence the gallon remains our primary unit for measuring milk. This British Imperial unit, before it was standardized, literally meant “eight full breasts.” Always denominate your fuel tank by the liter, even if your car must suckle gallon-gauged pumps. (Alternate name: “the Long Gal.”)
Sidewalks: “Sidewalks,” akin to riding “sidesaddle,” are a means of travel intended to accommodate the inefficient female form — in this case, by elevating it several inches above street level, just like high heels. Men, who are naturally the correct height to observe vehicle traffic, don’t require special pavement and may in fact misalign their skeletons if they make regular practice of using same. Urban planners have unsuccessfully tried to make this obvious by placing sidewalks beside the road, where no man would ever choose to be marginalized, yet many men have taken leave of their senses and behaved as though they lack the manly confidence to step in front of a speeding coupe on the main road with the sure knowledge it will yield.
Loose-leaf Paper: Written thought’s natural medium is the scroll, a single thesis read from beginning to conclusion with no interruption. All the greats wrote on scrolls (Moses; Jack Kerouac). However, the multitasking female mind yearns to flip between wish lists, gossip, and moralizing couplets, so publishers seeking a wide audience chop documents into shorter bite-sized lady-accommodating thought-morsels called “she-teaspoons” (abbreviated: “sheets”) of paper.
Medievalism: The word medieval is derived from the Saxon “maidye vale,” or “valley caused by women.” The Dark Ages were obviously the result of runaway female empowerment — a testament to the oft-proven proverb that when you give women just a little control, what you get is codpieces and witchcraft. On the surface, armoring up in a tank-like mech suit to bash another man with a spikey metal ball seems like ordinary, wholesome macho fun, but it also underpins an elaborate princess fantasy of chivalry in which men are expected to carry elaborately-clothed women down spiral staircases.
Hurdles: By Puritan custom, if an unmarried woman flung herself to the ground in front of a bachelor, he was obliged to leap over her prone body; if she managed to snag his ankle mid-jump, they were considered betrothed. Predictably, scheming cousins sometimes exploited this innocent tradition by banding together to form multi-woman obstacle courses, the better to entrap husbands.
Refrigerator: Most women feel a thrill of delight each time they make cold-set Jell-O, or ceviche—they know the fridge is a modern-day shrine to Norse goddess-queen Frigg, ruler of the winter solstice and weaver of fate itself. This is a level of power to which every female aspires; they will test your willing complicity by offering you refrigerated leftovers. Unplug your fridge immediately. True men eat at restaurants or around campfires. Notably, if a woman agrees to a date on Friday (“Frigg’s-day”), by the laws of the girl code, you won’t get laid.
Femur: Perhaps you have heard women joke about their “lady boners.” The bone to which they refer is, of course, the femur, a large thigh bone which supports a woman’s child-bearing hips. (You may be more familiar with the male skeletal equivalent, the lemur.)
Surgical Clamps: Purely decorative.
Dimes: Minted at the request of First Lady Grace Coolidge, the dame coin (pronounced “dime” due to Coolidge’s prominent Vermont accent) enabled married women to carry housekeeping money in the most minuscule waist purses, called dime bags. Certainly, a man may pay with dimes, but overuse suggests mathematical skill insufficient to accommodate a digit in the ones column. This thinnest and most bashful American coin fits far more comfortably in tiny female hands.
when you give women just a little control, what you get is codpieces and witchcraft
Yes, every Thursday I, as a woman, make my weekly pilgrimage to gather sufficient tribute for Frigg, to be placed in the cold shrine to her.
Also totally explains why only women can be frigid, never men.
And men will never know that it doesn’t mean what they think it means, and that it’s actually a high-rank title bestowed upon women who capably tend the shrine to Frigg.
Obviously I am more devout as I often make several weekly trips to gather Frigg tribute. It’s never that I simply fail to make a complete list of the tribute needed…
Well you’ve got all those loose-leaf paper lists to flip through…
I was gonna say, I am totally here for making Jell-O (maybe lime with fruit) as a Friday offering to Frigg.
genuinely wish i had thought to take notes in class on a scroll. now i’m almost done with school and will have no need for handwriting again in life so i won’t even need she-teaspoons soon
I love everything about this.
Pretty sure Moses wrote on stone tablets, and I can’t say I’m that keen to get my chisel out every time I write. Rather, be like God, like Homer, like that 15-year-old free styling on his uncle’s porch, and eschew writing altogether. Only speak, and trust that your manly timbre has imparted to your listeners an eternal impression of your words.
So THAT’s what a dime bag is!
dime bags
However, the multitasking female mind yearns to flip between wish lists, gossip, and moralizing couplets,
openly shrieking with laughter
Truly hilarious and real.
The latest masculinity so fragile thing I’ve observed on college social media is “gay” to mean cute or appealing. This was a literal sentence I saw advised to a man who asked advice about asking a woman on a date: “Take her to coffee or ice cream or something gay like that.”
Soon everything good in the world will be implicitly feminized, and all cishetmen will starve.
Bro 1: “Dude is like, breathing and shit. So gay.”
Bro 2: “I know, man, he’s like, synthesizing ATP and shit.”
Bro 3: “So gay, man. So gay.”
This is the entire script of the play I wrote called “Three Merry Bro.” It is a tragedy. They all die in the end, obviously. It premiers tonight on Misandry Theatre, you should totally watch it. #killallmen
(reserves a box seat)
TBH I say gay to mean cute a lot but I *am* gay so when I do it, it’s cute.
Maybe “gay” will circle back around itself and start to mean “charmingly insouciant” again.
Could there be anything gayer than a man courting a woman?
Isn’t there a Devon Banks quote about this,one that I probably shouldn’t look up on my work computer?
I fervently hope there will be future installments, there are still so many sneaky lady-things that haven’t been identified.
Ladies! We’re everywhere… *sinister music*
I will never, ever tire of the Amazon reviews of the Bic for Her Pen: http://www.amazon.com/BIC-Fashion-Retractable-Ass…
I love how that link got cut off. Now I want a BIC Fashion Retractable Ass.
OMG that is amazing.
But only in pink or light purple. Because ladycolors, you know.
My mother actually buys these, because the pink and purple colors keep the male doctors she works with from stealing them.
Seriously wish my favorite work pencils came in pink or maybe floral print, even though I hate florals myself, for just this reason.
My husband buys them too (in pink). He’s a high school teacher, and this way he knows exactly who has stolen his pens. Plus I think he kind of enjoys when the students get all flustered and confused because their male teacher is using pink.
Your husband is one of the good ones, congrats.
A big part of why I was attracted to him when we were wee college freshman was that he had a F*** Sexism patch sewn onto his messenger bag. Slight downgrade because he had actually cut out the letter UCK from the statement because the language bothered his mom.
While annoying to a college freshman, I think that actually signals great things about whether a person is good partner material. Respectful of an important person in his family and willing to find a compromise, even when it’s a little silly!
A++ etymology. I totally endorse all of this.
Re: “even a traditionally `man’ color like black is not always universally recognized as masculine”: look, this is a real concern. Just the other day as I was shopping for lace curtains in my usual outfit– black corset, black fishnets, black heels, black gloves, black bow-tie, black top hat– the sales clerk addressed me as Miss Thing.
Everything here is 100% true, especially about the lemur.
(Moses; Jack Kerouac)
Lost it.
Well you've got all those loose-leaf paper lists to flip through…
Could there be anything gayer than a man courting a woman?
This. Was. Fabulous. So glad I didn’t see this yesterday, as it was a great way to start off my Thursday!
that is adorable
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