I was in year three of the four years I spent at the World’s Worst Office job when I realized that my Big Girl Meeting Pants were feeling a bit … small. I couldn’t understand it! After all, it wasn’t like I was leaving work every night at five (or
Editor's Note: This article deals explicitly with tales of bullying and includes derogatory gay slurs; and some readers may find it stressful or triggering. It's also disgusting.
When I was a teenager, I was terrified of the vagina. I had just watched the movie Alien and decided to Google the “facehugger”
I bet you’re one of those people who can’t remember the last time they pooped their pants. I bet that’s real nice. I bet you have an easier time negotiating rents, raises, and the price of that pair of Rag and Bone jeans you know you are always going to
I’m going to tell you about this thing that happened to my vagina. And it’s a really gross one. I’ll wait here a second while you put down those yogurt raisins you were eating. Done? They’re back in the snack drawer? Good. Let’s begin.
Just a for-instance, let’s say you’ve been