This is my fist balled in anger

The next person who argues with me because i don't have a dick is getting kicked square in his.

This is a rant.

My toilet has been running for almost a week. I took the top off so it could be adjusted after flushing if the flapper didn't fall down correctly. The problem was simply that one of the rubber do-hickeys that connects the flapper to the arm dealy had torn so it was falling crooked and getting stuck. So today i went to a hardware store to replace the flap. I decided to get a hard plastic one so that this particular problem wouldn't happen again. (Fixing it myself is 20 times easier than asking my landlord to do it because he would call a plumber and it would cost a ton and then he'd raise my rent again. Or he'd think it was a bomb. He thinks everything is a bomb.)

Anyway, i picked the one i wanted and as i made my way to the check-out counter an employee goes, "Hey, little lady, are you sure you got the right thing there?" And i said, "Yeah. It should work fine." So he says, "I bet you have the wrong size."
"Looks right to me."
"No, no. Hardly any toilets use flappers that big."
"Mine does. This was the only size that looked right."
"I have more. Follow me. I don't want you to have to come back and feel silly."

Are you fucking kidding me? Little lady?! And that's just to start. I could've punched his lights out before he finished his sentence.

I follow him back to the aisle i had just left, seething. As i walked, i pulled up a picture on my phone that i had taken in case i needed to compare. He pulls down 1.5" flapper and i hold my phone to his face instead of taking it. "Well, i'll be. That's a 3 incher. You were right. Good luck fixing it though." Thanks, asshole. I hope he doesn't have any daughters. If he does, they probably can't even pump their own gas.

So i buy the hard plastic one and when i get home i realize it won't work because the hard plastic do-hickeys are too narrow to fit around the black tube ma-jigger where the water goes in to fill the tank, so i can't get the flapper to attach to the arm dealies. I realize that the rubber one would work because it would stretch out around the whatever-you-call-it. So i went back to the store. That motherfucker saw me coming and he said, "Told you so," and walked away shaking his head. I wanted to scream so much at him. He was off by HALF! I just picked the wrong material for the situation.

I know most dudes aren't assholes who think women are incapable, helpless retards. I know because i live with, work with, am related to and love a bunch of guys who are about the coolest dudes alive. However, here's an apparent newflash for the rest of them: JUST BECAUSE SOMEONE DOES NOT HAVE A PENIS, DOES NOT MEAN THEY ARE GOING TO CURL UP IN A BALL AND CRY AND START SCREAMING FOR A MAN WHEN SOMETHING BREAKS!
I open my own pickle jars too, motherfucker.

Drugs are fun - don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

Case in point ~ My good buddy, Nellie, hurt herself a while ago and was in such terrible pain that she was prescribed both very powerful painkillers and anti-spasmatic (i made that word up, apparently) muscle relaxers. These on top of her being medicated for anxiety-related issues. I didn't understand exactly how fucked up these pills could make a person until i started getting texts from her saying things like, "I hurst my neck and mom gragged me to the ER where i had dr hot body with sexy soft hands" and "I cannot function. I've stabbed myself with the cats used insulin needle and fell on the dog trying to get her harness on. It took me two minutes to get up the stairs because i walk like a drunk hobo at the bus stop." I alluded that i might come and visit her the following night and she asked me to bring "fisting supplies".  ??!!  We straightened out what she had actually meant, and i assure you it had nothing to do with either of us slamming the other one in the butt. However, i decided right then that i had to go take care of her for a couple nights. At first, honestly, i just wanted to hear what kind of shit was going to come out of her mouth. And that was awesome. But she's also just really fun to hang out with and she's one of the few people in my life who don't give a shit when i unleash the big girls and run around her house with my boobs bouncing and poking all over the place under a tee shirt. What a gal!

Anyway, she did say some pretty funny stuff. Some of it i was able to understand, most of it - not so much. She had two twin-sized air mattresses blown up and laid up against her huge sectional when i arrived. She had no less than 10 pillows and 5 blankets and she looked cozy as hell. She called it "Floptopia" only she slurred the shit out of the name and it took me a minute to get it. She wanted me to go get her some Skittles (yeah, let's say skittles) because she thought, for some reason, that skittles would make her feel even better. With that many drugs in her, i can't imagine how a tiny puff, er...nibble, of skittles would make any difference, but whatever. I told her i didn't have enough gas to go running around for skittles and she said i could take her car. I said i wasn't going to not smoke for that long because she has never allowed me to smoke in her car. She replies with, "Well then smoke and then drive your drive my your my car and smoke." And she looked at me like i was stupid. Then she lays back and pats the mattress next to her and says, with the thickest slur i have ever heard and been able to understand in my life, "Are you gonna drive me in Floptopia later?" Nellie then winked at me. After the fisting business, i was a little concerned she was forgetting that she is a straight girl or that i am a woman. Anyway, i drove her car but didn't smoke. She got her damn skittles. I did not drive her anywhere else, thank you every much.

She said, "Wattle dottle playum" to herself about 60 times and i never figured that one out. "Searslajusslookadatmayun" = "Seriously, just look at that man". She was showing me a picture of "Hoctor Dotface", which is Doctor Hotface who is the very same Dr. Hot Body with the Sexy Soft Hands, apparently. I wish i could have gotten more documented but i started to feel a little bad about barking laughter in her face and scribbling in my little pad. Not that she noticed. Hoctor Dotface, ha! I sure do love my crazy, drugged-up Nells.