meh. I do that when I feel like it. Fuck the imaginary handicapped person who’s nowhere in sight.
I am a vegetarian and even if I weren’t, I simply cannot stand the taste of shellfish.
A woman brought what she said was a nice couscous veggie salad to a potluck. I asked her if there was any meat or fish in it. She said no. I took one bite, spit it out and said “There’s shellfish in this. BLECH!”:
She said “Oh, you can’t taste the little bit of crabmeat in it.”
Bolding mine.
HRT? Hormone Replacement Therapy? Her Royal Tuna-ness?
Just out of curiosity, which grocery store purchases do you find “pathetic”?
Spam
I tore a new one for the person who was using the handicap stall as a phone booth while I was standing there, full cast on my arm and having to pee. “If you’re not handicapped in there, please get out!” She looked at me and said “Well, I never saw a handicapped person in here before.”
Sigh.
With huge dudes that’s just how the arms hang. For most dudes that happens because they don’t stretch. Haven’t seen it with the just-started-outers, but I’d agree that’s not the best.
I’ve had two different individuals “swear” to me that “tempeh bacon” tastes just like real bacon, and that I would be surprised to learn it wasn’t real bacon. A person would have to be insane to actually believe that.
All of you, for getting the Gilbert and Sullivan ditty “I’ve got a little list” stuck in my head.
As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I’ve got a little list — I’ve got a little list
Of society offenders who might well be underground,
And who never would be missed — who never would be missed!
There’s the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs —
All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs —
All children who are up in dates, and floor you with 'em flat —
All persons who in shaking hands, shake hands with you like that —
And all third persons who on spoiling tête-á-têtes insist —
They’d none of 'em be missed — they’d none of 'em be missed!
and I’ll also throw in my favorite updated version as sung by Eric Idle
**From The Mikado.
By William Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan, with additional lyrics by Eric Idle.
Sung by Eric Idle and the Chorus. **
*If someday it may happen that a victim must be found
I’ve got a little list, I’ve got a little list
Of society’s offenders who may well be underground
And who never would be missed, they never would be missed.
There’s interior designers, window dressers and that sort
And grubbers who retire in strings the minute they get caught
Or those who have their noses pierces, or men who die their hair
Or idiots who host chat shows and disc jockeys everywhere
And customs men who fumbling through your underwear insist
They’d none of them be missed, they’ll none of them be missed. *
Ann Hedonia, I realize there may not be a copyright issue with these pieces, but board guidelines still request that people not post the entire lyrics to songs here. I’ve edited the post and provided links so people can still find them in their entirety.
Your arm in a cast makes you handicapped? Whatever, there’s a reason the line to the women’s loo is always so fucking long. And it has to do with you fucking around and doing all kinds of rubbish in there, like yapping to each other and yapping on the phone, instead of doing what you went there to do and clear out when you’re done.
My arm was bent at the elbow with a full cast and I couldn’t use it. I needed the bars in the handicapped stall to help me stand up after peeing. You need something to grab in order to stand up with one good arm.
If you don’t believe me, try it sometime.
This is the reasoning that just about every-single-person who chooses to use the handicap stall seems to have. For one thing, there has never been a handicapped person “in sight” any of the times that any of the perfectly able-bodied men chose their stall. At least not in my experience. We get there while the stall is being used! That’s a silly argument anyway, no one is going to knowingly take a handicapped person’s place in an accessible stall. Or at least extremely few people. What is much, much much more common is the rationalization that takes place when they arrive and see no one else using it.
The handicap stalls are stalls of necessity (or really should be considered as such). For everyone. For the able-bodied, they become necessary when no other stalls (or urinals) are available. For certain disabled individuals, the stalls are necessary every single time.
Whether it’s childbirth, menses, or even just plain toileting necessities:
Men who think they know what women go through. I do appreciate those who don’t close their eyes to the whole nightmare, but there’s no amount of empathy that can truly comprehend the added hassle.
And 1000x more so for men who think they know how we should be able to get through it in a way that that is less inconvenient -* for them.* Innocently helpful they are. Ummm hmmmm.
In that same vein: pregnant women or new mothers who overshare.
I fully get that this is my issue, not theirs, and I have no right to ask them to stop. But I’d really rather not hear about their epidurals, the last time the baby had explosive diarrhea all over their work clothes, the interesting substances that emanated from their nether regions today, or any other topic that should ideally be discussed only with one’s doctor, one’s spouse, and one’s closest of friends or family members. It seems like some women, when they become mothers, become convinced that the whole world wants to hear the intimate biological details of their lives.
There’s a reason I don’t have kids. 
Thats a pretty reasonable take on it.
As a general rule I won’t use a handicapped stall unless all other stalls are full AND if I don’t go NOW there’s gonna be bad things happening in my pants. At which point I will.
Should read:
It seems like some women, when they become mothers, become inundated, engulfed, and subsumed by the intimate biological details of their offspring and personal physical recovery, and have absolutely nothing else to talk about because they haven’t seen a movie or so much as a newspaper in eight months.
There you go.
Well, that’s because you haven’t been properly mansplained about such issues 
So how do you explain male gynecologists and obstetricians?
Plus is your menses the same as the next womans menses?
A doctor can successfully treat someone who has had a heart attack without ever having had one, or knowing exactly what it feels like, or understanding the emotional complications that a person can suffer after surviving such an experience. So I’m not sure I understand your question, here.