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.

Wherein I Reveal Which Set of Gonads I Possess

In case you wondered, I am a woman. I have lady parts and two of them are quite large. Let me tell you, they’re not my eyes like that Zoey Deschanel or those chicks in mascara commercials. I don’t dig ‘em – let’s get that clear. I mean, they’re all right. They’re not deformed too badly and they’re kind of fun to play with and I get a kick out of it when lovers do their thing with them, but mostly they are cumbersome. Buying bras is a shitty experience. Every. Single. Time. Jogging, running and jumping rope are things I have to do in private or else struggle to contain my rage so I don’t punch a bunch of people’s eyes out for ogling. Something which I should not even be allowed to get pissed about because I have been known to stare gape-mouthed at giant and/or unrestrained bazungas. It’s just…well, when it’s me people stare at it becomes a problem.

Anyway, I digress. It’s just hard to let go of a resentment I’ve had since 3^rd grade when these monsters first reared their nipple-covered heads, like mounds of flesh wearing skull caps of sensitivity. 

 

I just wanted to let you know that I’m a lady – not in the fancy, well-bred sort of way – just in the sense that I have lady ‘nads and all that comes with them. I’m sure you would’ve caught on but, you know, just in case…