I promise this will probably be the only post about periods, but maybe it shouldn't be. Why relegate something so common and indeed natural to the realm of secrets?
Speaking of bizarre male interactions, I was approached by a bro in the library today asking me not for a cigarette but for conversation about pointless shit that did not need to be conversed about. Some may call this flirting. I call it "Why are you talking to me can't you see I'm reading about the plight of the Chinese worker" or, alternatively, "This is a library have you been in one before or do you just play lacrosse." This incident was highly unusual given my tendency - which dates back to my early Horace Mann days - to completely frighten the type. It could be my volleyball calves or maybe my black nationalist sympathies, but I find that I have the unique power to at once mystify, frighten, and emasculate any man in a polo shirt. (Recordamos la cita del año pasado con Gallaboy, quien me preguntó "So, uh, when did you get turned on to this angry feminism stuff?"
We have a lot to do, ms. hooks. Chapter 5: Men - Comrades in Struggle.
[Photo ripped from chartyourcycle.wordpress.com]