I wonder. I don’t know what the stats are, but I suspect men are more likely to be the victims of violence than women. Going by purely anecdotal evidence, most of the adult males I know have been seriously injured by other males (in bar fights, hazing, stupid attempts to be a hero et al.), while I know plenty of women who have never been involved in a violent incident of any sort. Granted, men are generally better equipped to defend themselves, but that’s another issue.
What’s a porpentine?
OK, what I’ve gathered so far is this. First of all, women are evil harpies, so their friends are really their enemies. OK. Good to know.
Second, women have to perform ridiculous cosmetic procedures. (Although, in my social circle, this is not an issue, as the girls do not generally shave or wear makeup. And that, AFAIC, is a Good Thing[sup]TM[/sup]. Removing large regions of hair and painting one’s own face is not my idea of attractive.)
Third, sexism. Well, I can tell you one thing. My penis has never gotten me anywhere. All the president’s have been male, but those are other men, and I don’t benefit from their success.
Fourth, bathrooms. Yeah, waiting in line is a pain. Men’s bathrooms are generally revolting, though. It’s also been my experience that womens’ bathrooms are better maintained.
Fifth, PMS. OK, you’ve got me. I never actually wanted to switch genders or anything, but this should alleviate any jealous. However, I do remember a conversation sometime in my mid-teens. I was talking to some girl (one of those girls that supposedly matures faster than I) who made the statement, “Guys get PMS too.” I tried to explain that PMS stands for Pre-Menstrual Syndrome, and that since men do not menstruate, they, by definition, cannot experience PMS. She countered by claiming that since I am a guy, I know exactly nothing about the phenomenon of menstruation, and she was therefore correct by default.
Boy…do I get your point. I had a 10 millimeter (1cm) stone in 1989. It was pulverized, and I passed gravel for 2 months.
While it was still in stone form, it tried to get out of me on more than one occasion. That was absolutely the worse pain I’ve felt…ever. Vomit inducing pain.
While in the hospital, I met a woman who had 4 kids and had passed 2 stones. (Not at the same time) She said she obligated to name the stones as well as her kids because of the pain.
It’s Elizabethan for porcupine.
“I could unfold a tale whose lightest word
Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,
Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,
Thy knotted and combined locks to part
And each particular hair to stand on end,
Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.”
– Hamlet, Act 1, sc. 5